Wedding Bells
by HR always live on
Summary: Tyrion and Sansa have just married, and this AU story picks up on their wedding night. A Tyrion Sansa story, with romance and action in the later chapters. I always though Tyrion would be good for Sansa. M rated for later chapters. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**In this, the red wedding has already happened when Tyrion and Sansa married. My first GOT fic, so please be kind and let me know what you think. Thank you**

* * *

**Tyrion**

As soon as he walked through the door, Tyrion closed the door and barred it as quickly as he was able to. This evil castle had eyes and ears everywhere, and whatever else happened tonight, he wanted privacy. He wanted to know that no one could barge in to his private chambers. He turned to face his new wife, and saw her watching him, eyes wide and clearly terrified. He realised that the way he locked the door could be interpreted two ways. Maybe that he would pounce on her, which was clearly what she's afraid of.

"No," he said. "I want privacy. I want to know that none of my treacherous relatives will come and stab me in my sleep. I'm sure it's occurred to one or two of them."

Sansa's eyes relaxed, but she still looked scared, probably about what's to come. He sighed heavily and felt a wave of disgust roll through him. At what she must be thinking of him, the monster she'd been forced to marry. At the revulsion she must feel. Sansa was young, beautiful and high born lady, trained to be married off from a very early age. She'd do her duty, she knew perfectly well what was expected of her, but she wouldn't be happy about it. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she stood completely still.

He walked to the wine decanter, close to her and she backed up a step. He pretended not to notice as he poured two glasses. He wasn't nearly as drunk as everyone thought him, but he'd wanted to get out of that feast as quickly as possible. Drunkenness was merely his excuse to escape, otherwise they might have had to endure a few more hours of that slow torture.

He handed her the glass of wine and she took a gulp of it. "I don't know what you think of me," Tyrion said. "I'm sure I could imagine, but it could be worse. I could be Joffrey right now." Her lips twitched in something that might be a smile.

"That's true," she said.

"I'm aware of how cruel he's been to you," he continued. "I'm not going to hurt you. I know I'm a Lannister," Tyrion added. "And I can't help that but I'm not like my nephew or my sister."

"I know," she said. "I… do know that."

"Look, I'm not going to touch you tonight." He finished his wine and poured some more before continuing. "Whatever else I may be, I'm not a rapist, and I'm not intending to start with my wife."

She'd relaxed slightly at his words, but still bit her bottom lip in worry. "But… everyone says that we have to…"

"Unfortunately, I fear that we will have to consummate this marriage at some point. But not today. Not when you're so clearly terrified of me. You need time… to get used to me." He sighed heavily, hating that he was in this situation. "I daresay we will be expected to have children at some point. I'm sorry," he added. She looked like she might cry, but he was grateful he didn't. He liked women, but crying women always disconcerted him.

"I know that we have to…" Sansa started. "Have children." She swallowed uncomfortably. "After all, there's no Stark's left to rule Winterfell. My brothers are all either dead or lost. There needs to be more, doesn't there? Who better than a new Lannister Stark child." Young she might be, but she had grasped the point of this marriage. The fact that Tywin Lannister wanted a claim on the North, and she was the key.

"I'm going to sleep here," Tyrion said, sitting down heavily on the couch. "Take the bed for yourself."

"I… um…" Sansa looked from the bed to Tyrion, plucking at her dress slightly. "I need help," she said. "This dress… It's impossible for me to get out of it on my own. Can you… with the buttons?"

"Of course," he said. She knelt down without another word, her back towards him and he saw maybe a hundred tiny buttons, running from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine. Sansa took her hair in her hand, away from the dress as Tyrion started to undo the buttons. He'd undone about seven by the time he started cursing whoever had chosen this dress for Sansa to wear. It must have been Cersei. He was sure that she'd get some kind of perverse pleasure, knowing that his new bride had to kneel in front of him before he could undress her and the embarrassment it could cause them both. Not to mention, choosing a dress that she couldn't remove on her own. He tried to touch her skin as little as possible, but even so he couldn't help the small little touches of soft skin every so often. And her skin was beautifully soft and creamy white, even under the candlelight. He couldn't fail to notice, especially when the row of buttons revealed her narrow hips and seeing the tempting wideness of her buttocks below, still covered by the white material.

"There," he said.

"Thank you," she said, turning around and clutching the gown to her breasts.

"Goodnight Sansa," he said, falling onto the sofa and pretending to be asleep to give her some privacy. That, and the fact that he did want her, badly. He wasn't sure how long he could resist, especially with the echo of her skins softness still on his fingertips. This marriage was going to be challenging, especially resisting his wife, who it so happened he desired very much indeed.

* * *

**Sansa**

The sound of Tyrion's snores filled the room, but she wasn't entirely sure he was actually sleeping. Maybe feigning it to leave her alone. If that was the case, she was glad. It had been a long time since she'd been alone, or it felt like it anyway. She went behind the screen and stepped out of the remnants of her wedding dress, quickly changing into her night shift. Then she climbed into bed, wide awake and trying to sift through the mix of her emotions. It had been a massive day for her, one she'd been thinking about for years. She'd had dreams for her wedding day and night, none of which had actually happened. But her new husband was right in one thing, it was better to be married to him than Joffrey. He'd have already beaten and raped her by now. Maybe twice.

Yes, Tyrion was vastly preferable to the king. She actually believed him when he said he wouldn't force himself on her. But there was the unavoidable fact that they'd have to have sex sooner or later, and they both knew it. A part of her thought it might be better to have done it now. At least she'd get it over with. But she couldn't pretend to feel anything but relief that her husband was sleeping on the other side of the room. It might be cowardly, but she was happy to delay sleeping with her dwarf husband for a few more hours or days. Even though his touch on her back hadn't felt as unwelcome as it might have done.

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**Would love to know what you think, good or bad. More?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the follows / reviews and encouragement for chapter one. It really helps, as I've never written something like this before. Getting this up as soon as I can, to thank you for your support.**

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**Sansa**

Sansa awoke early, the dawn light only just beginning to creep through the window. Tyrion sat at the desk, a book open and the candles burned far down. He'd clearly been awake for a while.

"My lord?" she said, wondering what she was supposed to say to her husband this morning.

"You're awake early," he said, turning towards her. "We won't be disturbed for several hours yet. Try to sleep some more."

"You've slept less than me," she said. He said nothing, but inclined his head. "Do you have a knife, my lord?"

"It's Tyrion," he said. "And yes, I have a knife. Why?"

She blushed before she could stop herself. "There needs to be blood on the sheets," she said. "It might make people leave us alone for a little while longer."

He sat silent, but nodded, agreeing with her thinking. He handed her a small dagger before thinking better of it. "Maybe you should let me…"

"No, I'll do it," she said firmly. She took the knife, twisting so she could cut the sole of her foot in one neat line. The blood welled instantly, as did the pain, but she ignored it, concentrating on dropping blood onto the bed sheets. She'd thought about where to cut herself, and decided that anywhere else would be too noticeable. Her handmaiden might see it, and these days she never knew who was a spy. There was silence in the room until the wound on her foot clotted and she handed Tyrion back the dagger, stained with her blood.

* * *

**Tyrion**

He watched his new wife in fascination as she concentrated on staining the sheets. She'd cut her foot quickly and with decision and he was surprised. Not many girls would willingly inflict pain on themselves with such certainty. _She really must want to avoid sleeping with me for as long as possible,_ he thought, with a flash of hurt, surprising in its intensity. _What can you expect? She's barely more than a child._

Sansa handed him the knife, and he looked at the bloodstained edge for a moment, before wiping it clean. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her.

"I dreamed of Robb," she said. Then she looked aghast, covering her mouth with her hand at her words. "I mean… I didn't…"

"Sansa, you don't ever have to lie to me," he said. "It's perfectly understandable that you should miss your home and your family."

"My family are traitors," she parroted. She'd said it so many times it was now an automatic reflex, he could tell.

"No," he said gently. "They were only on the losing side. That's all." He swallowed against the lump in his throat, now they'd come to the subject of her dead relatives. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that my family was responsible for you losing yours. I had no part in it, but still. They are my family, and I'd understand if you blamed me. You probably should blame me," he added fairly.

"I don't blame you," she said quietly, her voice just a whisper. "I blame… people that it would be treasonous to name."

He understood that that was as close as she was going to come to blaming Tywin and Cersei and Joffery for those she'd lost. "Tell me about your brother," he said.

She bit her lip, debating whether to open herself up, he could tell. He stayed silent, letting her make the choice of how much to divulge. "He was just… Robb," she said.

"He was good with a sword and in my dream he was teaching myself and… Arya knife throwing. He never taught me in real life, I was too busy learning… womanly pursuits. Embroidery, dancing, the art of conversation. How to please my husband," she added, blushing vividly red. "Arya was the one who wanted to throw spears and axes, never me."

"Anyway," she said as Tyrion listened eagerly. She didn't open up like this to anyone and he was reluctant to break her trance. "Robb was handing us knives, and we were laughing as we threw them at the target. All three of us had our dire wolves with us. They were growling and snapping at each other playfully in the practise yard. It was so much fun that I didn't even notice it had started snowing until… Lady, my wolf, shook her coat, showering us with wet snow. Robb laughed, he had a wonderful laugh, back when there was things to smile about. I woke up."

Tyrion watched her speaking about her home with such warmth and felt a sadness for her. She'd already lost so much. Both parents, her home, her friends and all of her siblings, one way or another. Now she'd been forced into marriage with a dwarf, he thought with a wave of revulsion. He'd become used to his condition and almost immune to the ridicule, but seeing it through her eyes was worse, because he could only imagine what she thought of him.

"I met Robb once," Tyrion said. "He seemed a good man."

"Maybe," Sansa said.

"Don't think you have to hide your feelings for your family from me," he said. "I wouldn't betray your confidences." She nodded but he couldn't tell if she actually believed him. He decided to confide in her, in turn. "I dream of my mother from time to time."

She looked at him curiously. "I thought…"

"No," Tyrion said. "I never met her. She died giving birth to me, so my dreams are no more than figments of my imagination. I do dream of her though."

"What are the dreams like?" she asked innocently.

He coughed, a little embarrassed, but he started so he'd go on. After all, it couldn't be easy for her to talk about her family with a Lannister. "It's more a feeling," he said. "In my dream's, I'm a child. I'm being taken care of. I never see her face, but I know it's my mother. I feel… safe," he admitted. "Normal. Like I'm not a deformed monster any longer."

"You're not a monster," she interrupted. "Monsters are people like J…" she tailed off, terrified that she'd said something she shouldn't have.

"My nephew?" Tyrion supplied. "Well, yes. But a lifetime of ridicule is hard to ignore. In my dreams, my mother always makes me feel safe. And peaceful. And I sleep in her arms."

She smiled at him, then admitted something. "Do you know, I can't really remember what my mother looked like. It's been so long since I saw her. Years. And now she's dead." She went red. "I'm sorry. How selfish I must seem, to be complaining when you never had a mother."

"It's not selfish," he said quietly. He cleared his throat as the silence dragged on, knowing that the moment of sharing intimacies had gone. "Shall I call for breakfast?" he asked.

"If you like," she said indifferently. "I don't think I can eat." At that moment there was a bang on the door as someone tried to open it and found it locked. Tyrion moved and unlocked it, finding Shae there, coming in like a whirlwind.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you so much for the reviews and story follows.**_

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**Sansa**

She felt surprised at how sharing both herself and Tyrion had been in those rare moments. She hadn't expected him to actually talk to her, she'd expected to be treated like a pretty possession. Nothing more. To be treated with respect, like she was an actual person worthy of attention… even if it had just been for a few minutes, to be something other than a captive had felt very good. Shae came in and she knew that, for today at least, there would be no more unguarded conversation between her and her husband. She liked Shae, but she'd been in Kings Landing for too long to trust anyone. Which made it remarkable that she'd been so unguarded with her words with Tyrion.

Shae, looked at them both, then stormed towards Sansa, dropping the breakfast tray on the table. Something was bothering her handmaiden, Sansa would have had to be blind not to see it. Shae removed the bed sheets, and then froze, clearly seeing the bloodstain on the bed. Sansa didn't see it coming at all. Her neck snapped backwards, and she heard the slap before the pain really registered. Her handmaiden had slapped her, and she wasn't finished there either. Sansa watched as she marched towards Tyrion and slapped him too. Sansa stared at her as Tyrion and the maid struggled together, until Shae ran out of the room, slamming the door.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"What's wrong with her?!" Sansa asked.

"Nothing that a passage across the narrow sea won't cure," Tyrion said darkly. "Excuse me." She watched her husband leave, wondering if he meant his threat.

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**Tyrion**

He found Shae, only outside of the room, sobbing into the wall. She knew he'd follow him then. "We can't talk here," he said, knowing that the door wasn't soundproof, and he walked around the corridor, up a flight of stairs until they were alone. Or as close to alone as anyone was likely to get in this castle. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You slept with her!"

"I didn't," he said quietly. "But she's my wife. At some point, it probably will happen. Unless Joffrey wants to take my head from my shoulders before Sansa gets used to me." Tyrion knew it was a distinct possibility.

"I saw the sheets!" Shae hissed. "I know you did." Tyrion didn't correct her, knowing that it could be for the better if she went on believing this.

"You need to leave," he said. "There is no place for you here."

"You're sending me away?!"

"Yes," he said. "I will not humiliate my wife any further by keeping you here."

"By keeping a whore, you mean," Shae corrected. Tyrion sighed, but didn't argue.

"She has had more hurt, loss and pain in her short life than anyone deserves. I will not bring any more on her if I can stop it."

"Do you care for her?"

"It's an arranged marriage, you know that," he said, avoiding the question.

"Do you care for me? Did you ever?"

"I did," he said. "Of course I did, but… things have changed now. My situation has changed. And I might not be in Kings Landing for much longer anyway," he added, voicing a fear of his. Time was running short, and whether he got out of the capital alive was open to question. Nothing had happened, but he could sense it. Things were beginning to move. "You need to go across the narrow sea."

"What! I can't leave!"

"You will if you value your head," he said. "You can't attack the King's aunt and uncle. You can't slap us and get away with it. What if next time Cersei was there? Or Tywin? You'd already be dead. They wouldn't think twice about killing a…"

"Whore," she said. "You can say it."

"You stay here for much longer, your life will be a short one."

"Fine," she said. "I'll go. She's too good for you though."

"Don't I know it," he said. "I'll send Bron to organise your passage. You'll be… taken care of." Shae looked at him and shook her head sadly.

"Is this goodbye?"

"I think we really said goodbye several weeks ago."

"Goodbye my lord." In a whosh of skirts, she was gone.

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**Sansa**

Sansa washed and dressed before sitting in front of the mirror, braiding and rebraiding her hair. After an hour, she realised Tyrion wasn't going to come back until far later. That left her with a burning curiosity about Shae, but she'd have to wait.  
She'd finished braiding her hair for the fourth time when there was a light knock on her door. She worried about who it was, swinging the door open to find Margery Tyrell. "Oh," she said. "Hello."

"I thought I'd come and distract you," Margery said. "Joffrey's given me three horses as an engagement present. I'm going out to ride. Would you like to come?"

"Yes," she said fervently. It had been months since she'd ridden a horse. Years even. She'd been taught to ride almost before she knew how to walk. At Winterfell, she'd loved to ride in good weather, which hadn't happened often in the north. Now, as a prisoner she couldn't just go out and ride. But she wasn't a prisoner anymore, she reminded herself. She was a Lannister. "I'd love to."

* * *

"Oh, he's beautiful," Sansa said, admiring the dappled grey horse and stroking his mane.

"Yes," Margery said with pride. "I like the white one, though." They began to walk through an orchard, having just dismounted and tied up the horses. They had a few guards, but they were for their protection, and they were fewer in numbers than Sansa was used to.

"So, how's married life?" Margery asked.

"Fine," she replied by reflex. She looked around making sure they were alone, before deciding to confide in her. She had no one she could really talk to after all.

"He's not touched me."

"No?" Margery asked.

"No," she said. "He slept on the couch while I had the bed. Do you think…?"

"Go on."

Sansa took a deep breath and decided to confide one of her fears. "Do you think he doesn't like me?" she asked. "I mean, I've been so concerned over myself having to marry him, I never thought about him being forced into it too. I'm not… I don't want to sleep with him, but I thought… he'd want to. I thought he'd at least… ask, or touch me in some way."

"So you're not in any hurry to consummate your marriage, but you're slightly offended that he didn't want to."

"Sounds stupid," she said, looking at her feet. "But yes."

Margery laughed lightly, but it didn't feel as if she was laughing at Sansa, so she didn't take offence. "Oh Sansa, I don't know what to tell you. Except that maybe the fear of a thing is usually worse than the thing itself."

They kept walking will she thought about that. "So you're saying grit my teeth and just get it over with?"

"No," she said. "You've got to do what you want to do. After all, you've not had a lot of choice in the last few years, have you? But you never know, you might actually enjoy it." Sansa scowled at the ground and Margery laughed, this time it felt like it was at her. "I don't think Tyrion would be purposefully cruel to you, Lannister or not."

"I do get that feeling," she admitted. "I don't… I'm just frightened. I'm so used to being frightened, I can't remember feeling safe any more."

"Less guards though," Margery said. "Now that you're Lady Lannister."

"It is nice," she agreed. "To have guards who're looking after me rather than imprisoning me."

"See?" Margery said. "Things are getting better already." Sansa smiled.

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**_More soon. Let me know what you think._**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you so much for the reviews and story follows. I'm trying to update as quickly as I can in thanks. Enjoy**_

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**Tyrion**

"Is she gone?"

"Shae is sailing to Essos at this very moment," Bron said easily.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," he said. "She didn't kick up a fuss either. It seemed as though she wanted to go."

"Mm," Tyrion said under his breath. He would miss Shae, and he'd cared for her greatly, but if he were being honest, their relationship had drawn to a close quite a while before Sansa married him. He looked at the decanter on his desk and raised an eyebrow at Bron in question who smiled.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, pouring a healthy measure. "So, now your whore's taken care of, how's the blushing bride this morning?"

"Bron, don't," Tyrion said sharply.

"What?!" he said, a grin on his face. "Is she not as pretty under her clothes? Greyscale?"

"I wouldn't know," Tyrion said pointedly.

"What!" Bron said, trying not to life. "You've not even _looked_ at her yet?"

"She doesn't want me," Tyrion said quietly. "I'm not going to force myself on someone so young who would probably die of fright."

"Marriages between noble lords and ladies aren't about who wants what," Bron said. "You should know that! They're about alliances, and getting children in noble bellies."

"Thank you for putting such a fine point on it while you drink my wine," Tyrion said. "Anything else of value you want to add before I kick you out?"

"You're not going to kick me out, you like me too much," Bron said with annoying self confidence.

"Sometimes, I wonder," Tyrion said darkly. "Just… I don't appreciate you talking about Sansa like that. No matter how we got here, she's still my wife."

"Mm," Bron said. "So make good use of her."

"Maybe in a couple of years," Tyrion said. "When she's older."

"You might have lost your head by then."

"Now you can get out," Tyrion said, taking the wine goblet from Bron's hand. "Go on." Bron shrugged, then left, closing the door behind him while Tyrion sighed. No matter his tactlessness, Bron had a point. She was his wife, and noble born ladies were married particularly young. He'd just never expected to be that kind of husband. Or any kind actually.

* * *

Sansa was brushing out her hair in their chambers when Tyrion came in. She caught sight of him in the cloudy mirror and turned. Tyrion looked at her loose red hair which almost fell to her waist. God, her hair might be taller than he was, he thought. Then he watched as the candlelight sparked against it, making it change colour as she moved. Then she turned, watching him.

"Good evening, my lord," she said politely.

"Will you one day call me Tyrion?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Sorry," she said. "Habit."

"I've got Poderick bringing dinner here for us," he said. "Have you eaten?"

"No," she said. "I've been avoiding the dining hall. I didn't… couldn't face Cersei and Joffrey."

"Well, I don't really want to either," he said. "We'll have a few days privacy, I'm sure."

"That's good," she said. Quickly tying her hair up, she turned to the table, just as Poderick brought a tray up.

"Anything else m'lord?"

"No, thank you, Pod," he said. Poderick left and Tyrion sighed heavily. He'd been doing a lot of that lately.

* * *

**Sansa**

Her husband sat opposite her, pouring them both wine and she didn't know what to think. Would he be expecting anything tonight? Even after her discussion with Margery, she was still frightened, not so much of Tyrion, but more of losing her virginity.

"You didn't touch your breakfast," he said gently. "You should eat." She started to eat the pork, which was rather delicious and before she knew it, the plate was empty. She'd been ravenous and she hadn't even realised until she'd begun eating.

"What happened to Shae?" Sansa asked when her plate was empty.

"She's gone."

"You sent her away?!" Sansa asked in shock. Her cheek still stung, but she couldn't believe he'd be that cruel.

"I sent her back to the free cities and her people," Tyrion said. "Because next time, she might not be so lucky. What if she loses her temper and slaps Joffrey?" he asked. "Or any other of my numerous relatives? She'd be dead in minutes. My sister wouldn't think twice about a dead hand maiden if she'd offended her. I'm sending her away to save her life."

"Oh," Sansa said quietly. Put like that, it seemed sensible.

"I know you're fond of her," Tyrion said. "I'm sorry. It was… for the best."

"Okay," she said.

"I… got you something for the wedding. I know you didn't want to marry me, not that I blame you, and I wanted… well." He reached into his pocket and found the ring he'd had specially made for her. He gave it to her and she took it, their fingers brushing for a moment. It had a wide band and a sapphire as the gemstone. Sansa looked and saw the engraving on the inside of the ring. He'd had a dire wolf engraved on the inside, so she could wear something for her house and no one but her would ever know.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"If you don't like the stone, I can have it replaced," he said. "I… don't know what jewels you prefer."

"No, it's… very beautiful. I love it." She smiled at him, a wide genuine smile and put it on her finger, admiring it in the dim light of their chambers. "Thank you, Tyrion."

He smiled at her, and she reciprocated. "There is a good thing from this marriage," Tyrion said. "My family won't kill you now. You're worth far more to them alive. And I can offer you some protection. I know how scared you've been over the past few years."

"Yes," she said. "That was pointed out to me today by Margery Tyrell."

"That girl will rule the seven kingdoms one day," Tyrion said, not without admiration. "She's got a political head on her shoulders, that one."

"Is she really going to marry Joffrey?" Sansa couldn't resist asking.

"I imagine so," he replied. "The Tyrells aren't going to give up on the crown simply because of one psychotic boy." He swallowed his wine, then looked at her. "Not that I'm not fond of my nephew," he added sarcastically. Sansa smiled at him, interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yes?"

It was Poderick, returning for the dishes, which he took. Once he'd left, there was silence between them which was heavily awkward. She yawned and he smiled.

"You should go to bed."

"What about you?" she said after a moment.

"I'm fine."

"Look, the beds a big bed," she said. "I don't like thinking that you can't sleep because of me."

"That's kind of you," he said. "But I think I'll be comfortable on the chair. I'm only small after all. I don't need a lot of room."

"Okay," she said. "Goodnight." She got changed and got into bed, closing her eyes feeling very aware that Tyrion was still awake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Tyrion**

He couldn't share her bed. He didn't trust himself not to behave inappropriately, in spite of the fact that she was legally his wife and he could do whatever he liked. He wouldn't pounce on her either, which meant his sleeping would be uncomfortable for the foreseeable future.

He took a lantern and a book from the shelves before settling down to read. As tired as Sansa clearly was, it was still early. He needed to read before he could settle his mind for sleep. That or drink wine, and he thought he'd done enough of that last night.

* * *

"No…" Tyrion tensed, hearing the cry. He looked around, but nothing was amiss. "No, don't! Please!" It was Sansa, crying out in her sleep and he relaxed. At least there was no external threat. "No! Leave him alone! Please don't…"

"Sansa," he said quietly, walking towards the bed. His voice made no difference, she kept thrashing and moaning in her sleep, clearly having a nightmare.

After a moments indecision, he sat on the edge of the bed and talked to her again. "Sansa, calm down," he said.

"No, don't…" He reached out for her and stroked her hair gently, hoping that she wouldn't wake and think he was taking advantage of her. Her hair was wonderfully soft as it ran through his fingertips, and he kept stroking her aubern locks gently.

"Calm down," he said quietly. She moaned a bit, but her words were indistinguishable, and her cries quieter as Tyrion kept stroking her hair gently. He found the movement almost hypnotic, the silkiness of her hair feeling wonderful. He couldn't really stop.

"Tyrion…" she sighed, her voice just a murmur which almost sounded like a passionate sigh.

"Oh, don't do this to me," he said quietly. "My resistance is not perfect."

"Mm…" she sighed. He did nothing, but kept stroking her hair gently. He couldn't stop.

* * *

**Sansa**

It felt incredibly difficult for her to wake up. She was warm and happy and wanted to simply sink into sleep again. Then she realised that her head wasn't on a pillow, it was on something much more solid. She opened her eyes, looking upwards. Instead of the ceiling though, she was looking at Tyrion's face, his eyes open, watching her.

"Tyrion," she breathed, feeling dim witted and slow. She reached out for him, still feeling half asleep as her palm curled around his cheek. He closed his eyes and the scar across his face came into sharp relief. Suddenly, she came to herself and realised what she was doing. She dropped her palm like she'd been burned and sat up, wild eyed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what came over me."

"Not at all," he said, and she recognised the look of disappointment there.

She saw him comfortable in her bed (their bed?) and wondered what had happened last night. Last she knew, she was sleeping alone.

"I didn't take advantage of you," he said, reading her face. "You were having nightmares and shouting out in your sleep. I was just trying to calm you."

"Oh," she said. Had she been having nightmares? She'd woken feeling content, but she couldn't remember any of her dreams that she might have had last night. But she also knew that Tyrion wouldn't have attempted to touch her intimately while she was sleeping. She sat up and looked at him. She suddenly realised that she trusted him, which was disconcerting in itself. "Did you sleep?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "Quite well actually."

"I told you, you should have had the bed," she said. "You need your sleep too."

"I've faced worse things than a lack of sleep," Tyrion said.

"I know," she said, her eyes drawn to his scar, not with revulsion, but curiosity. He didn't move as she judged him. Then to both of their surprise, she reached for him and traced the scar lightly. When she reached the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes and she drew back.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling embarrassed. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't apologise," he said formally, feeling a lump in his throat at her gentle touch. "I…" He never finished as the door burst open.

They both turned, seeing Podrick in the door, looking pale. "You could knock," Tyrion said in irritation.

"Sorry m'lord," he said. "I was sent urgently."

"Oh?"

"Your father wants to see you," Podrick said. "And he told me not to waste any time."

"Oh good," Tyrion said sarcastically. He looked out of the window and saw how high the sun was. They'd slept in then. "Let me get dressed, and I'll be on my way," he said. "I don't need someone to show me the way, Pod," he added as the squire didn't seem to want to move. "I know where my father is."

"Okay m'lord," he said. "I'll wait outside." Podrick almost bumped into a tiny blonde waif in the doorway who resembled nothing more than a mouse.

"Oh, excuse me," she said in a shy voice, looking at the floor while she curtsied. "I've been sent to be Lady Lannister's new handmaiden."

"What's your name?" Sansa asked, getting out of bed and looking at her.

"Briony, m'lady."

"Who sent you?"

"Erm… Her grace, the Queen m'lady." Sansa raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. The girl was blushing and staring at the floor. "Would you like breakfast, m'lady?"

"Yes," Sansa said. "Thank you."

"I'll be back in a few minutes, m'lady." The door closed, and Sansa and Tyrion were alone again as he hurried to get dressed. She averted her eyes and waited until he spoke.

"I'll see you this evening," he said kindly, then was gone.

* * *

**Tyrion**

He walked the familiar route to the apartments of the hand of the king, not especially looking forward to this conversation. It could only be about Sansa, because Tywin wouldn't want him this urgently about anything else. He walked straight through and found his father writing in a ledger, alone except for two guards. "Leave us," Tywin said, and within moments the two Lannisters were alone.

"What can I do you for you father?" Tyrion said sharply.

"You're late."

"My legs don't get me places as quickly as yours do," Tyrion said. Tywin looked up from his desk and put the quill down.

"Have you deflowered your wife yet?"

"Do you know, I don't recall that being any of your business," Tyrion said lightly. He wasn't going to give in on this one.

"Well, it is my business," his father said. "I'm hand of the king, and regent of the realm until Joffrey is of proper age. I need to make sure that the dynastic alliances we make provide fruit."

"Ah, so the question of children rears its ugly head again." Tyrion took the decanter from his fathers desk and poured himself a glass without being asked. "You don't mind if I steal your wine, do you?" He swallowed a gulp, knowing that this was a conversation he didn't want to have completely sober.

"You need to do your job."

"She's fourteen," Tyrion said simply.

"I don't care if you find it distasteful," Tywin said. "For whatever absurd reason you have. I thought bedding whores was your main talent in life."

"I enjoy bedding whores," he said. "I don't enjoy forcing myself on a girl who would wish to be anywhere else in the entire world."

"Tyrion, I don't understand you," his father said. "Whores are with you because of gold, not any enjoyment. Shelve your bloody pride and sleep with her. Just a few times, until her belly swells with a Lannister child."

"Not until she wants me to."

"You're not serious?" Tywin asked with amusement. "Do you really think the beautiful Stark girl will one day turn around and invite you to her bed because she wants you?"

"Thank you for reminding me of my position father," Tyrion said sarcastically, before downing another goblet of wine.

"She might do it because of duty, or to have a child, but it will never be desire."

"I think how often I sleep with my wife is between her and myself and no one else."

"I disagree," Tywin said. He took up the quill before carrying on. "If she's not pregnant in six months, I'll have your marriage annulled on the grounds of non consummation, then marry the Stark girl myself, fourteen or not. See if I have better luck getting a child on her."

"You're in your sixties and she's fourteen," Tyrion said, feeling fear. He was going to take Sansa away from him. He couldn't do that. _Oh, but he could,_ a nasty voice said at the back of his mind. "That's disgustingly indecent."

"People will talk," Tywin agreed. "But I don't care. Once she whelps once or twice, the talk will stop. And I'll have Lannister Stark heirs in my bloodline."

"You would be that cruel to a girl who's done you no harm at all?" Tyrion asked in shock. The thought of his father and Sansa together both disgusted him and angered him. In a brief flash he could see Sansa's creamy skin trapped beneath his brute of a father in the heat of passion and he hated the image in his mind. He dispelled it with difficulty.

"I need more heirs," his father said. "The one's I've got are all sadly lacking."

"Oh yes," Tyrion said, voice heavy with sarcasm. "I lack height, Jaime lacks a right hand and Cersei lacks a penis."

"Don't talk to me like that," Tywin snapped. "Do your duty and sleep with her. I don't understand why that's so hard. You've spent ten years at least cavorting with whores your every waking hour. Here's one you have for free."

"The difference is she doesn't want to be there with me, and even though they were whores, I've never forced any woman."

"Don't get so sensitive," Tywin said. "When Sansa does get with child, I'll send you both to the Rock. I want my grandson born at Casterly. If you can be proven to do your duty, I might actually let you inherit that fortress."

"No you won't," Tyrion said. "I'll be passed over like I always am. You'll give it to this theoretical child."

"You haven't been back to the Rock in years. Wouldn't you like to see it again? If Sansa is still a virgin the next time I see her, I'm going to start getting angry."

Tyrion had a few good insults to throw back at his father but held his tongue. Anything that he said might just make things worse. So he turned and left, feeling the anger bubble under the surface.

* * *

**Big thank you to those who reviewed the previous chapters, and followed this story. More soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for the follows, and especially the reviews! They let me know I'm doing things right. Also, I was requested to write more of Margery, so she will appear again, several times.**

* * *

**Tyrion**

Tyrion sat alone "working." In total honesty he was thinking about Sansa and his father while drinking ale. Not wine, he wanted to keep a relatively clear head to think things through. He had no doubt his father meant his threat. After all, Walder Frey had married someone Sansa's age, and he was probably older than Tywin. Tywin Lannister wouldn't let a little problem of a fourteen year old virgin get in the way of his vision of the future and their family name.

The truth was, Tyrion liked her. To survive this long, she had to have some common sense and strength of character. She'd lived by her wits too, and he was enjoying those brief glimpses of herself that she sometimes allowed him, beneath the armour she cloaked herself in. As well as the fact she was beautiful and if he were being honest with himself, he did want to bed her. But he knew she wouldn't want him, which left him with a very thorny problem. How to either make her give herself up willingly, or to avoid sleeping with her at all. The second option had an unfortunate time limit though, thanks to his father. Oh Gods be good.

* * *

**Sansa**

Briony had braided her hair far too tightly this morning and she had a massive headache. She'd just sat down that evening to undo it when Tyrion came in, closing the door. "Good evening," she said politely before she began pulling at her hair viciously, trying to undo it.

"Are you trying to pull it out?" he asked, watching her. "Scissors would be more effective."

"I don't think that Briony has ever done a lady's hair before. This is so painful."

"Let me," he said, before thinking about it. "You keep going like that, you're not going to have any hair left." She dropped her hands and faced the faded mirror as Tyrion's hands started gently loosening her hair. She sighed as she felt the pressure release on her scalp slightly. He worked her hair free in the silence and his touch was incredibly soothing. Especially when the last braid came lose and she felt like she could think properly again.

Her hair was free, she knew that and yet Tyrion's fingers kept running through the long strands comfortingly. He was gentle and careful and she began to enjoy his touch, now that the pain in her head began to subside. His hands started to slow.

_No. Don't stop. I like that._ She didn't dare say it though. Instead, she reached for the brush on her dressing table quickly and handed it to him before she could change her mind.

"Would you… do you mind?" she asked hesitantly.

"No," he said, voice low. "I don't mind." He took the brush, their fingers grazing for a moment and returned to his task, brushing out her beautiful auburn locks. Sansa closed her eyes at the methodical way he brushed her hair, being very gentle. As the minutes drew on, he stopped. She turned to look at him, not sure what look he was giving her. His eyes were dark in the candlelight, staring right at her, as if into her very soul. She felt her breath catch for a moment and then he turned away and the moment was gone.

"I have bad news," she said.

"More?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. "What now?"

"We're requested to dine with the King tonight."

"Oh."

"A squire gave me that," she said, nodding to the invitation on the desk. "I don't think we can say no."

"No, I don't think we can," Tyrion agreed. "Does he… are you frightened?"

"No," she lied. He frowned at her. Clearly she wasn't convincing enough.

"I won't let him hurt you," Tyrion said sincerely. "Or any of my other relatives," he added. "I promise."

"Thank you," she said. Not entirely reassured, but she knew he meant it. Her trust for her husband was beginning to grow, and she knew it. He wouldn't consciously let anyone hurt her.

* * *

**Tyrion**

Entering the dining hall, he saw full benches and sighed. On the top table in the centre was Joffrey, Margery by his right, Cersei on his left. Also present was Tywin, Jaime, Tommen and several other of his lesser Lannister relatives. Sansa was frightened, he could tell, but she was doing a very good job of letting no one else see. Margery smiled at the pair of them before turning back to her betrothed and saying something Tyrion couldn't hear. Sansa had slowed her pace so that he wasn't required to jog to keep up with her and he felt grateful at her thoughtfulness.

"Good evening," he said to the table. Jaime was the only one whose smile reached his eyes, and Tyrion felt glad that there were two empty seats there. He lead Sansa, who sat in between the brothers, Tyrion on the end of the table.

"Good to see you can finally join us uncle," Joffrey said. "Have you worn your new bride out yet?"

Sansa looked at the table, blushing hotly and Tyrion felt a quick fire of rage in him. "That's no way to speak to your aunt," he said quietly.

"Don't criticise your king! I'll speak whatever way I like!"

"Play nicely now," Tywin said. "We won't ruin this wonderful meal with shouting, will we?"

Joffrey scowled at his plate before taking a swig of wine. Tyrion watched him carefully, aware that Sansa and Jaime were now speaking.

"How are you, sister?" Jaime asked.

"Very well, my lord," she said sweetly.

"How is my brother treating you?"

"He's a good husband," she said, and Tyrion recognised the automatic line, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. Jaime spoke quietly, obviously intending for Tyrion not to hear.

"My brother is not cruel," he said. "He's not the monster everyone would like to believe he is."

"I know he's not," she said sincerely. Tyrion dared look at her, and saw her smiling, a real one too. "How are you, my lord? How's your arm?"

Jaime looked down at his missing hand and smiled. "No one asks me that. Everyone else has avoided mentioning it," he said. "As if not talking about it will fix the problem. I'll live," he added shortly. "Though, I'll never hold a sword or fight in a battle again."

"I'm sorry my lord," she said formally and Jaime inclined his head.

"Have some wine," Tyrion said, wanting Sansa's attention away from his handsome brother. Handsome and **_tall_ **brother, he reminded himself.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the goblet. They were being watched, by both Joffrey and Cersei, neither of whom made him feel comfortable. He covered Sansa's hand with his own, trying to get her attention, and she bent her head to his.

"We won't be here long," he said lowly. "Just long enough not to cause offence." She smiled her thanks and began to eat.

* * *

**More soon. Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sansa**

Cersei was watching her, she could feel her eyes burning at her. The main courses had been taken away, replaced with desserts and she grabbed a lemon cake, more for something to do than because she felt hungry.

"Are you craving yet?" Cersei asked poisonously. "A bit soon maybe, but are you with child, do you think?" A snigger ran around the table and she felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. "You never know, if you're lucky you might die in childbirth."

"Cersei, hold your tongue." Tywin spoke with a normal voice, but the ring of authority in it was clear and she fell silent. Sansa on the other hand was close to tears, but she felt so determined not to cry in front of these evil people. Tyrion gripped her hand tightly under the tablecloth.

"I think we'll leave," he said calmly. "If you'll excuse us."

"No, I won't!" Joffrey said. "I'm the king, I want you here."

"Surely you won't begrudge me the opportunity to enjoy my new wife?" Tyrion quipped. "In a few weeks when you're married, I'm sure you'll understand. Goodnight everyone." He held her arm tightly as he led her out of the hall. He wasn't serious, was he? Had he meant what he'd just said, or was that simply an excuse to leave? She didn't dare ask, and they were both silent until they got to their chambers. Tyrion locked the door and started to light extra candles.

"It will blow over soon enough," he said. "Joffrey will get bored. He won't laugh at you forever."

"Do you laugh at me?" she asked, then wondered where that had come from.

"No, Sansa," he said. "I don't laugh at you. Do you think I'm… amusing?"

"Yes," she said. "I do. I don't laugh at you, of course not. But you have a sense of humour. I find it difficult to smile."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"What did Lord Tywin want to talk about this morning?" she asked. It was impertinent, but she had a feeling it was to do with her.

"Oh. You," Tyrion said, not surprising her in the least. "He said that… don't panic."

"Okay," she said, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

"He said that if you weren't with child within six months of our marriage, he would have it annulled on the basis of non consummation and marry you himself."

"What!" she squeaked. "He's an old man!"

"He wants heirs," Tyrion said. "He doesn't care how he gets them."

"Oh God." She sat down on the edge of the bed and cried silently.

"I won't let it happen," he said, wanting to protect her. "It'll be so indecent. He won't get near you."

"But…"

"I'm sorry," he said. "For so many things." She shook her head.

"I don't believe any of this is your fault," she said, wiping her tears away. She pulled her hair out of its simple tie she'd worn to go to dinner, leaving it loose, almost shimmering in the candlelight. "We're going to have to… aren't we?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Look," she said. "I know what's expected of me, I'm not stupid. But I am nervous." He nodded, waiting. "I want… if we have to… I want to take things slowly. I don't believe you'll touch me until I let you, and I just… think it might be better for me if it's slow. Is that selfish?"

"No," he said quietly. "Not selfish. Understandable."

"Tyrion… I've never kissed anyone. Not properly. Could we…?"

"Are you sure?"

"I'd like to try." She felt incredibly nervous, but it was true. If she couldn't even kiss her husband, how on earth was she going to cope with everything else they had to do? She sat on the bed, so they were of a height, and before she felt entirely ready, his lips had pressed against hers. She froze for a moment in shock, then closed her eyes as his soft lips melded against her own. His lips were warm and gently demanding, pressing against her mouth. She felt his tongue flick against her lips and she gasped, feeling an unexplainable jolt of heat go straight through her "Oh…" she moaned, opening her mouth to him more than willingly. His tongue searched her mouth in a way which felt really good but she stilled for a moment. What should she do? How should she react? Tentatively, she stroked his tongue with her own and he groaned. She pulled back, wondering if she'd done the wrong thing.

"Was that… did I do something wrong?"

"Why would you think that?" he asked, breathing heavily, trying to control himself.

"Because I've never done this before. I don't know what I should do," she admitted, feeling stupid and childish.

"You need to do what feels good," he said simply. "There are no rules you need to learn, just follow your instincts."

She nodded and bit her lip hard. "Can we… do that again?" she asked.

"You liked it?" he said, smiling at her. She nodded, a little unsure whether she should admit that. But she had enjoyed it. He smiled and kissed her again, before she could change her mind.

* * *

**Tyrion**

He couldn't sleep. Her lips had been wondrously soft and that kiss was on a continuous loop in his mind. Her fingers had found their way to his hair and had clutched him to her. She'd enjoyed it, he could tell. She'd been nervous and scared, but she hadn't hidden from him or been repelled by him either.

She lay just across the bed from him, insisting he sleep comfortably, and he hadn't argued too much. When it came right down to it, the couch wasn't that comfortable. Her hair spilled on the white sheets, showing almost black in the moonlight that came through the window. He wanted to touch her. He longed to touch her. Actually, what he really wanted was to sink himself into her, and damn the consequences. But she really would think him a monster then, and he cared what she thought of him. He cared very much indeed.

"Oh…" she rolled over in her sleep with a sigh and wrapped her arm around him. He froze, waiting. Nothing happened. She seemed to settle down and he could feel her palm on his back. Sleep would be impossible tonight.

* * *

**Margery**

She walked through the walled garden and saw her grandmother taking tea in the gazebo. It was still quite early in the morning, but her grandmother always seemed to be there, unless it was raining. The power of high garden, she thought to herself.

"Ah, Margery, my dear," Olenna said. "Good to see you. How are you this beautiful morning."

"A little chilly," she admitted. "It's growing colder, and the days shorter."

"As the Starks are so fond of saying, Winter really is coming," Olenna said. "Take a cup of tea."

She did, clattering slightly as she added a sugar lump to her cup. "Speaking of the Starks… I've invited Sansa to join us this morning. She should be here within the hour with her embroidery silks." Olenna sighed heavily. "She's got no one," Margery added.

"But she's of no further use to us," Olenna said. "I wanted her to marry Loras. Now she's taken unless Tyrion has an accident. And even then, I'm sure Tywin would manage to marry her to another Lannister before we've got the chance and get a couple of children on her."

"Are you really that cold?" Margery asked.

"Yes," Olenna said. "Before she was important. Since Robb Stark's death and Bran, Rickon and Arya Stark all missing, she's not just important. She is absolutely critical, and the Lannisters know it."

"Grandmother," Margery said lightly.

"With you marrying the King, we secure the throne. If Loras had married Sansa, we'd secure the North. With a few children obviously. Now the North will be ceded to the Lannisters. If we'd succeeded, in twenty years, we'd be in the position the Lannisters are now."

"Can we stop the politics?" Margery asked. She knew her grandmother was correct, but Margery didn't hold it against the girl. Sansa clearly hadn't wanted to marry Tyrion and would much have preferred Loras. On first look anyway, considering Sansa didn't know that Loras preferred men. "And I think assuming Loras will have a child ambitious indeed," she couldn't resist adding.

"Don't be ridiculous. He might find women distasteful, but it doesn't mean he won't sleep with his future wife."

Margery sighed, and took her embroidery silks from the case, and began to stitch. "You know, you really are a matriarch, grandmother."

"I know," she said with a smile. "You don't live as long as I do without learning to play the game, Margery. You should know. You're proving to be quite an adequate player yourself."

Margery smiled at the compliment, making another stitch, before looking up. "Hello," Sansa said, smiling shyly. "I brought my silks."

"Sit down child," Olenna said, all smiles. She did, looking nervous between all the ladies, but sitting next to Margery. "How is married life then, dear Sansa?"

"Fine," she said, looking at the table as she fiddled with the cloth between her fingers nervously. "It's… fine."

"Good," Olenna said. "Are you leaving for Casterly Rock yet?"

"What?" she asked with wide eyes. "I didn't… think…"

"Oh, well you might not be going," Olenna said. "I just presumed Lord Tywin would want you there."

"It's not been mentioned," Sansa said before smiling at Margery.

"Oh, that's wonderful, she said, encouraging the younger girl, looking at her stitching. "A lion?"

"It will be," Sansa said. "A Lannister Lion. I imagine I'll be sewing those for the rest of my life."

* * *

**More soon, and a big thank you to all of you who are kind enough to leave a review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A short chapter this time, and thank you for the reviews and follows on this story. I'm really enjoying writing it.**

* * *

**Sansa**

The sun was high in the sky when herself and the Highgarden ladies were interrupted. Sansa looked up, her heart in her throat as Joffrey and several of his Kingsguard approached the table.

"Your Grace, it is an honour to receive you," Olenna said sweetly. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to take Margery for a ride," Joffrey said, smiling at his betrothed. "Try out those expensive horses I gave to her."

"I'd love to, your grace," Margery said sweetly, putting aside her needlework.

"Bring her too," Joffrey said, smiling nastily at Sansa. "I've barely seen her over the last week."

"I'd be delighted," Sansa said, even though her heart was sinking to seven hells. She gathered her embroidery, putting it back in its box and handing it off to Briony.

"Take that back to my room," she said.

"Yes m'lady."

* * *

Sansa felt extremely relieved that Margery was with them. She did a good job at distracting Joffrey's attention from herself, and avoiding Joffrey's taunting for as long as possible was always a good thing.

At one point, Joffrey decided that they should race their horses. Sansa could have outstripped the other two, quite easily, but she didn't want to attract Joffrey's wrath, so she fell back, making sure her horse came in last.

Margery was laughing easily, so at home in this game with Joffrey. If it was an act, she did it very well.

"Ah, Sansa, coming in last are you!" Joffrey teased. "Mind you, I'm amazed you have the energy to even sit a horse. Hasn't my uncle tired you out by now?" She burned with embarrassment. "Tell me, is it true what they say? Does his manhood feel like it's breaking you in two? I hear it's obscenely large for his height."

Margery had missed this, grabbing a water skin from one of the guards horses, and taking a drink. She passed it to Joffrey who smiled, ignoring Sansa for a moment. He swallowed thirstily, before handing the empty skin to a squire.

"Maybe I'll have a go. You're wasted on my uncle."

"Ah, that's no way to speak to your respected aunt, now, is it?" Margery teased lightly. Joffrey shrugged as the squires set out the picnic the king had ordered .

The meal dragged by. Joffery and Margery were too interested in each other to pay her much attention, and then she thanked the Gods that it started to snow. Just a light dusting, and absolutely nothing compared to the North's snows, even their summer snows, but Joffery raced to the horses as if burned.

"We must get back to Kings Landing," he said, jumping into the saddle. Sansa felt like laughing. The snowflakes weren't even sticking to the ground, it was no more than white rain. But she followed to the saddle with Margery. The other two raced their horses back to the capital, but she was in no rush. She just trotted slowly. Raising her hands to the flakes that covered her hair.

_I want to go home._ Would Winterfell even be there any more? It had been burnt, supposedly to the ground leaving nothing but scorched earth, but stone walls were hard to burn. And she knew better than almost anyone alive just how thick those walls were. Unless they were knocked down, they'd still be standing.

"My lady, we should hurry back," one of the guards told her, looking up to the sky. "It looks to be a bad snow storm."

_Southern knights_, she thought with disdain. He didn't know the meaning of a bad storm. But it had got markedly colder, and the sun had hidden itself away. She pressed her heels into her horse to make him go faster, but she was still reluctant to move too fast and leave the snow behind. The soft cold kiss of the flakes on her face felt like home. If she closed her eyes, she could be back in Winterfell, back in the North with her family still alive and all around her.

* * *

Sansa was late when she returned to the stables, dismounting and letting the groom take care of Margery's horse. Unfortunately, she hadn't avoided Joffrey, who was waiting for her.

"What took you so long?"

"I was enjoying the weather, your grace," she said.

"Snow?"

"I'm a Northerner. I like the snow. It's been a long time since I've seen it," she said. "I'm sorry I was too long with your horse."

"Forget the horse," Joffrey said. "I wanted to let you know, that I don't care."

"Your Grace?"

"I don't care that you're married to my uncle in a laughable marriage, I don't care that you're "untouchable." Sooner or later my dear Sansa, I'm going to have you. I'm going to fuck you in the royal bedchamber. I bet you'd prefer that after the imp. You'll end up begging for more." With no warning he kissed her, almost brutal in his ferocity. She didn't push him away, she felt too shocked and frightened to do more than stand frozen like a statue. His touch on her made her feel a wave of revulsion, especially when his hand squeezed her backside, hard enough to bruise. She could only think _Tyrion kisses much better than that._ A horse snorted loudly and he let her go as a groom came around the corner.

"Until next time then." Joffrey left and she rushed off, back to her chambers. She wanted to be alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm bumping up the rating of this story to M now. Just a warning.**

* * *

**Tyrion**

The door of the bedchamber flew open and he looked up from the ledger, dropping the quill back in the ink pot. Much to his surprise, it was Sansa, breathing heavily. She shut the door, locked it, leaned against it and closed her eyes.

"My lady," he said, as she obviously hadn't noticed he was there. Her eyes popped open in fear, then relaxed as she recognised him. _Not so afraid of me any longer._

"What's happened?" he asked, as it was obvious something had.

"Joffrey," she said in one word which could encompass all manner of ills.

"And?" he asked, keeping a lid on his anger. Not until he knew.

"He kissed me," she said, looking at the floor. "And told me he'd f… fuck me in the royal bedchamber." Her face was as bright as her hair, and he felt so sorry for her. Not nearly as angry as he felt, though. This was just a game to Joffrey, a game which he couldn't lose.

"I'm going to have words with Cersei and Tywin about him," Tyrion said darkly. "Tomorrow." Right now his first instinct was to comfort his wife, but he wasn't really sure what he could do for her, or whether his comfort would be welcome.

"I'm so sorry," he said, walking towards her. "He can't be allowed to terrorise you, king or not. I will sort this out. Tell me, how do you feel about Casterly Rock?"

"Casterly Rock, my lord?" she asked, frowning.

"I fear the only way to avoid his attentions permanently is to move out of the city. I know it's in the heart of Lannister territory, and probably one of the last places you'd want to go, but it would be free of the King. And we'd have some peace and quiet. You'd rule your own house, be lady of the Rock, at least for a time."

"You could get me away from here?" she whispered.

"I think I can," he said. "Tywin wants his grandson born at the Rock anyway, I don't think it would be too much of a stretch to have us there now. Especially as the snows are coming and soon no one will be able to travel anywhere."

"Grandson," she said quietly, before turning to the more important matter. "I would like it very much if we were able to escape Kings Landing, my lord. Very much."

"Okay," he said. "I'll see if arrangements can be made."

"Thank you." She reached for him and drew him into a hug, surprising and very welcome. Even when she drew back, she still smiled at him. He tried to pretend that it didn't warm him deeply to see her smile.

"You should smile more often," he said. "It's good to see you happy." Her eyes were bright as well, before a bout of nervousness overtook her.

"Look, I think we should just get this over with," she said. "It's not getting easier for the waiting, and I'm sick of living like I'm on a precipice. And it's going to happen at some point, so why not now?"

Tyrion smiled at her without humour. "The expression on your face makes it seem as though you're going to have a tooth pulled out." She let out a tiny laugh. "Sansa… sex isn't as bad as you seem to think. Even with someone you don't… care for, it can still feel good."

She sighed heavily as she started undoing the laces of her dress while he watched.

"I don't want to end up like Lollys Stokeworth. And I don't want my first touch to be from Joffrey. I'd much rather it be you." The last was said under her breath, so he wasn't entirely sure she'd really said that. But she had. She let go of the laces of her gown which fell to the floor. She only wore a shift underneath it and started pulling it off.

"Sansa…"

She shrugged off the shift so she stood in nothing but her skin. She felt completely terrified as her husband looked at her and Tyrion could tell.

"Do I please you, my lord?" she asked quietly, eyes cast down.

"Oh, Sansa, don't do that," he said. "Don't hide behind your words. You're breathtakingly beautiful." He noticed that the hair between her legs was the same red as the hair on her head, and it was all he could do not to groan. She had freckles dotted all over her skin, and he wanted her badly. "Get in bed," he added softly. She did, scrambling to cover herself with the bed sheets quickly, and he felt guilty about enjoying the very erotic view she'd given him.

He didn't undress. He had no intention of consummating his marriage tonight, she was still too scared of him. Or maybe frightened of simply losing her maidenhead. Maybe it had little to do with him personally. All he wanted to do was to show her that it could feel good.

He got on the bed and leaned over her, kissing her very softly. She responded after a moment, the way she had last time. He carefully stroked her tongue again and she moaned quietly. Her hand rose to his hair, tentatively, shyly.

The sheet had fallen down, away from her breasts, and he tried not to look for a minute, before temptation got the better of him. He broke off the kiss and she moaned slightly in disappointment, biting her lip at the sound.

"Don't be shy," he said, running his thumb over her bottom lip gently. "I like to hear the noises you make." He kissed her again, letting a hand cup her breast gently. She froze under him at the contact, and he stroked her skin gently, trying to get her to relax. It worked, quicker than he expected, her nipple becoming hard almost instantly. She was sensitive there, then. Good. This would be a lot easier if her body was responsive and willing.

* * *

**Sansa**

His hand on her breast felt surprisingly good. It didn't feel like groping, it felt… well, wonderful. He pinched her nipple. "Oh!" Then began stroking her again and she closed her eyes at the sensation. Heat started to roll through her and in the moment, she never wanted him to stop. He moved down, and began to suck her nipple and she cried out. His tongue teased her flesh and she felt an unexpected surge of arousal between her legs. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. She thoroughly enjoyed his touch on her skin.

He kissed her breasts again as his hand steadily stroked her belly, going lower and lower. She felt both fear and desire and didn't know what to do or how to act. His fingertips slid down, past her hip towards the apex of her thighs. What in seven hells was she supposed to do? No one had ever told her how it felt or what to do, beyond "lie still."

"Open your legs," he murmured. She took a moment, stilled by fear and nerves before she obeyed. He stroked her gently, fingers working over her. She felt tense, but it started to feel good. Then _really_ good. She closed her eyes, letting the rush of pleasurable feelings go through her. She had no idea that her body was capable of feeling like this. He pushed a finger inside her, and she jerked in surprise. Then moaned as he touched her just right. "Oh my…"

She couldn't catch her breath with the things he was doing to her. Then it felt as if she was shattering into pieces as a surge of pure pleasure shot through her body, as she moaned and gasped, almost unable to breathe.

When she became aware again, she realised that Tyrion had stopped touching her, simply lying next to her. "What… Why've you stopped?"

"Because I think you're still frightened of me, at least a little," he said. "I wanted to show you that it's not going to be as bad as you're dreading."

She felt completely speechless. She didn't want him to stop, but she couldn't go against the behaviour and training of her lifetime. It was too ingrained in her that she shouldn't be wanton. She couldn't ask him to carry on. It wouldn't be lady like. Though nothing about this situation had been covered in her lessons. She almost laughed at loud at the thought.

"Goodnight Tyrion," she said, with a lack of anything else to say. But she stared at the stone ceiling for a long time before sleep came.

* * *

**More soon. Thank you so much for the reviews, letting me know what you think. It really helps me know I'm on the right track. For those asking about updates, I'm trying to update this fic once a day. Thank you again.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Again, an M rated chapter. Thank you for all the reviews and encouragement for this fic. A rather long chapter this time, but I couldn't bear to split it up.**

* * *

**Tyrion**

It took an unheard of amount of time for Sansa to fall asleep. He could see when she did because her body went as limp as a dying hare. As soon as she slept, he curled up on his side, trying to ignore the desire raging through him. His fingers were itching to touch her, and it had been a struggle to stop once she'd reached her height of pleasure. He nearly hadn't. Even now he wasn't quite sure what he was waiting for. He felt almost certain that she wouldn't have pushed him away, and might even have enjoyed it, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. Soon though. He wouldn't be able to resist her forever.

Carefully, he got out of bed and walked to the window. He could just reach the shutters and he opened them, letting the evening breeze wash over his face. He folded his arms on the windowsill and looked over Kings Landing. It was a beautiful city, on the surface at least. Before you got to the poisonous undercurrents. He enjoyed those undercurrents, he liked being able to double talk with people and outwit them. But those days were coming to an end. Joffrey was sixteen, and sooner or later he was going to discover his own power and that no one could stop him from doing whatever he liked, without going to war. Tywin would be useless. For now, when he commanded something, the King listened, but the days were becoming short. When that happened, when the lion could no longer be caged, Tyrion wanted to be as far away from Kings Landing as possible. Casterly Rock wasn't safe, but it was better than here. And it was a fortress, which was all to the good too. And he could keep Sansa safe. Safe and maybe happy.

He needed to have words with Cersei and Tywin, before things escalated, he knew that. But he wasn't entirely sure what difference it would make. Cersei had lost all control over her son. Tywin still had some authority, but probably wouldn't do anything. Tyrion sighed to himself, knowing that Sansa was still trapped. For the time being, any way.

When they got to Casterly Rock, she might feel less trapped. When winter was over, however many years that took, maybe they could even go to Winterfell. Rebuild it, as it should be. The snows were coming fast in the North, it would be time consuming and impossible to build it this side of winter. But in the Spring… he could take Sansa back their until it looked as it had done before it was mercilessly burnt.

Looking over the city, he heard the distant sounds of brothels and taverns, and not much else. He saw Varys sneaking through the red keep. Whatever could he be up to? Probably meeting one of his various informants, he thought grimly. Then he looked closer and saw a horribly familiar shadow next to him. If he hadn't seen her body half a thousand times, he might not have recognised her. But he knew Shae's shape. He knew that shadow was her.

Tyrion closed the shutters, not wanting to see any more and turned to the bed. His mind racing. Shae and Varys. Nothing good could come from that, especially as she wasn't supposed to be in Westeros in the first place. Bron promised she was on a ship to the free cities. Oh Gods be good. What did she want?

Sansa rolled over, face towards him, making him lose his train of thought. She was fast asleep, looking innocent with a flash of red over her face, her hair loose. The sheet had slipped down her body, showing a smattering of freckles just below her collarbone. Her breasts were still covered, but he liked looking at her.

"Oh, go to sleep," he told himself. "You're not doing yourself any favours, thinking about ifs and maybes." His voice seemed loud in the quiet of his chamber, but it brought him back to himself. Whatever Shae or Varys wanted, he would know soon enough. He got into bed next to his wife, and closed his eyes.

* * *

**Sansa**

She had a plan. A vague plan, and she wasn't entirely sure it would work, or if she was brave enough to go through with it, but she wanted to see what would happen. The next evening she ordered her maids to bring her hot water for a bath. She'd timed it so that if she were lucky, Tyrion would be back before the water became cold. She couldn't quite believe she was being this brazen or bold, and she felt sure that her nerve would fail at some point.

She had three maids, one of which was Briony, one a dark haired large girl who she thought probably belonged to Varys and a tiny girl of maybe eight called Elena Waters, clearly a noble bastard who'd been put into service. She didn't mind. She was too careful about what she said to anyone, as she'd been living in Kings Landing for far too long. Apart from Tyrion. He was someone who'd got under her guard, and she was being less careful than she should. Less careful than was wise. But then, he was her husband. Shouldn't one be able to be honest with one's husband? _He's a Lannister._ But that fact was beginning to matter less and less. What mattered was that he was kind to her, he treated her like a person worthy of attention. That he smiled at her, that he treated her with respect. That he liked her. _I like him too._ The thought floated through her mind unasked for. She wasn't successful in pushing it away, letting it hang in the air around her.

Briony poured another pail of steaming hot water into the bath and she breathed in the steam gratefully. Taking her robe off, she sank into the tub and sighed. The hot water against her skin felt blissful, the fragrance of the rose petals floating on the surface made her completely relax for the first time in an age. Her hair was down, and the ends were soaking up the water, going a dark brown instead of red. Did he like her red hair? Did she care what he thought? _Yes. I do care what he thinks of me._ She started lathering her body with a lavender scented soap as her mind wandered to the things he'd done to her. His fingers between her legs, his mouth on her breasts making her cry out with pleasure. She blushed at the memory. But then he'd stopped. And she didn't understand why. Maybe he just didn't want her. But the look on his face when he'd looked at her naked body made her believe that it wasn't that.

She rested her head on her shoulder, closing her eyes in thought. Then the door opened, her eyes popped open and Tyrion stood there. His mouth hung slightly open as he looked at her in the bath. Her breasts were below the waterline, but he could still see plenty, and she knew it. "Leave us," she said to her maids, who moved past Tyrion who still stood in the open doorway. "Could you shut the door?" she asked pleasantly. "I don't wish a passing guard to see me like this." He did, coming inside and barring the door. But then he stood leaning up against it, averting his eyes.

"Maybe you'd like some privacy, my lady," he said.

"Aren't we married?" she asked. Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as she'd hoped.

* * *

**Tyrion**

Her skin shone in the candlelight, wet and tempting. Judging by the sweet and almost innocent smile she wore, she knew what she was doing too. Trying to tempt him. He didn't stop to ask himself or her why she was doing it. Then she stood up, the water sluicing off her skin into the metal tub. He couldn't not look at her. She was breathtaking. Small, but beautiful, her nipples hard and he wanted to touch her. Actually, he wanted to fuck her.

"Sansa, what do you want?" he asked gently, taking two steps towards her. She stepped out of the tub, holding a towel to her skin, masking some of her body from view as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"I want to know what it's like," she said softly. "I want this to be a proper marriage."

"Once we do this, it won't be undone," he said. "It cannot be."

"I cannot escape this marriage anyway," she said. "And I'm not so sure I want to either." It felt as if neither of them were breathing after that quiet declaration. He reached for her wrist and gently ran a finger up and down her arm. She shivered under his touch, but he knew it was enjoyment, not fear. "I want to look at you," she said, surprising him.

"Do you really want to?" he asked. "Or do you just feel like you should?"

"I'd like to see you," she said, without a pause. Without the time to measure her words, and it seemed as if she were being honest. So he slowly undressed, until he stood in nothing at all. He couldn't look at her, and at this moment he was reminded of the reason he liked whores. When they were being paid they never looked at him in revulsion, or as if he were deformed. They'd act as if he's all they'd ever dreamed of, because he was rich. And whores were good at acting. So was Sansa, but she didn't act with him. She didn't lie, and he didn't want to see the honesty on her face when she looked at him. The moments grew longer and he wondered what she was thinking. Then he jerked to face her as he felt her fingertips feathering his chest, her touch hesitant but eager. When he turned to look at her, she dropped her hand.

"Sorry, should I not be… so bold?" Sansa bit her lip nervously.

"No, I wasn't expecting it," he said. "You don't have to stop," he added. She smiled widely, and put her hand back, her palm gliding along his skin. She moved haltingly, worried about doing the wrong thing. She stroked his belly, then her hand stopped. She was unsure, he could see it in her face.

"Lie down," he said softly. She did, and this time she didn't cover herself with the bed sheets. Instead, she lay waiting for him. He quickly kissed her, glad that she was responsive. Her hands wrapped around his neck softly, stroking his hair in a way that made him shiver. How could something so simple make him feel desired

And he did feel that way. He moved closer to her, making sure their chests touched and she froze. But only for a second or two. Then she let her body relax, pressing against his. The small swell of her breasts pressed against him, and he became hard very quickly. He wanted her.

He moved lower on her body, kissing her breasts as she moaned quietly. Her eyes were closed as her breathing quickened. _Probably fantasising about someone else,_ he thought uncomfortably. Just as that occurred to him, she moaned his name.

* * *

**Sansa**

"Tyrion…" She couldn't help calling his name, then she felt like she shouldn't be moaning. But his touch on her skin felt so wondrously good. And his mouth… He stroked her hips and kissed her between her legs and she cried out. Why had no one ever told her it could feel like this? To seven hells with not being brazen or wanton, she never wanted his tongue to stop. So she did what he'd told her the first time he'd kissed her. She let her instincts take over. She let her body move as it wanted to and let the pleasure infect every nerve ending of her being.

"Oh!" she cried out as her climax overcame her, letting herself drift away. When she could breathe again and opened her eyes, she saw her husband looming over her. He was erect and large and she swallowed at the thought of having that inside her. How would it ever fit?

"Sansa?" he questioned lightly.

"Do it," she said, a tiny smile on her lips. "Just… keep going. I don't want you to stop." This was perfectly true. She felt very eager to know what sex really felt like. Then he pushed inside her.

It felt as if she were being stretched beyond baring as he moved deeper inside her, but the ache had had a slight pleasurable tinge to it. Pain wasn't exactly the right word. It was more… sore and she felt unaccustomed to it. He broke her barrier quickly, and she cried out with pain. _That hurts!_ He stilled inside her as she whimpered underneath him, wanting the pain to fade. He pressed his body against her, kissing and licking her breasts, trying not to move inside her. Not to hurt her any more than he had to. The sharpness of the pain had gone, leaving a dull throb in its wake. But still he didn't move. She pushed her hips upwards, hoping he'd take that invitation. He did. He moved slowly, sparking pleasure through her bloodstream. The throb was still present, but it felt good too. Almost indescribable.  
He moved faster inside her and suddenly he groaned as he came. She arched up her body to his, and then sighed when he all but collapsed onto her. After a moment, he rolled away from her, giving her some space and she twitched a little. Never in her life had she felt so tired, and she closed her eyes heading towards sleep.

"Are you okay?" she heard him ask from the edges of consciousness.

"Mm," she murmured. "'s good." Then the world fell away in sleep.

* * *

**The Tyrion / Tywin conversation is coming up, but I wanted to write this one first. Thank you for reading, reviewing and following!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for the reviews and follows! More than 50 follows, I've never had so many, so thank you! Enjoy.**

* * *

**Sansa**

She awoke to clattering in her chamber and she blinked blearily, feeling disjointed. The maids were serving breakfast and emptying the bathtub. She blushed slightly when she remembered how brazen she'd been the night before. But it had worked, she reminded herself. _Tyrion_. She sat up, clutching a sheet to her breasts as she looked for her husband. He was sat by the desk, fully dressed and he caught her eye.

"Ah, my lady," he said. "I was just leaving you a message. I have to go. I've got a long day at work today."

"Oh," she said, feeling a wave of disappointment roll through her. He was leaving her for the day. She had had images in her mind of them spending a lazy morning in bed together, and at that moment she realised how fond of him she'd become.

And how badly she wanted for him to touch her again. There was a constant ache between her legs, but it wasn't exactly unpleasant. She sighed and got out of bed, covering herself in the robe Briony held out for her.

"Will you be… late this evening, my lord?" she asked.

"Probably," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said, trying to hide her disappointment.

"Sansa?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yes."

She tried to let her propriety fall away, and she got to her knees, so she could look into his face. She couldn't read him, but leaned forward to kiss him gently. She'd intended just a quick peck, but he responded quickly, deepening the embrace. Wrapping her arms around him, she moaned as his tongue caressed her mouth. He let her go, and her palm rested on his face. She dropped it reluctantly, and his face twisted into a lopsided smile.

"I'll see you this evening my lady," he said. Then as fast as his legs could carry him, he was gone.

* * *

Sansa, Margery, their maids and a handful of guards were walking serenely through the market stalls. Margery wanted some new fabrics and silks, and had asked for her company. Sansa had been more than happy to oblige.

"How is my lord Tyrion?" Margery asked.

"He is well, my lady."

"Margery, please," she said. "I'm glad he's well. And… married life?" Sansa said nothing but smiled a secret smile, which she knew wouldn't fool Margery in the slightest. "I'll have ten yards of that please," Margery added to a merchant, looking at a beautiful blue silk. Her handmaiden dealt with the transaction as they carried walking along. "So, your marriage is… unbreakable now, is it?"

"I suppose you could put it that way," she said.

"And?"

"It wasn't as bad as I thought," she said. "Actually, it was quite…" she didn't finish her sentence and Margery laughed. "I am a bit worried though."

"About?"

"He's had… lots of whores," she said speaking lowly. "I sure I wasn't behaving as I should. I don't have the experience. I want him to like me. In… that way."

"I'm sure he does," Margery said kindly.

"But…" Sansa gave up. She didn't feel sure about how to word it, but she was worried she'd never compare to those women. Those women who knew exactly how to act and what to do with a man. She didn't. And one thing she didn't want was for her husband to start visiting whores again. She wanted him to want her.

"Do you know, I don't think I bought you a wedding present," Margery said, interrupting her thoughts. "Chose some fabric. Let me treat you. Though you have more than enough money to buy the entire market ten times over now."

"Oh," she said. Yes. Her new family was rich. She'd never been hard done by, being a Stark meant she was better than most. Now she was a Lannister. And rich, she had so much money she'd never spend it all.

She touched the rich fabrics gently, stopping on a deep red velvet. It wasn't quite the Lannister colours, but it was close. Yet the sumptuousness of the fabric felt like Winterfell. She'd worn velvets and furs everyday of her life before she'd left for Kings Landing. It seemed as if the fabric was meant for her. "I like this," she said. Margery smiled and nodded to the seller.

"Yes. I think that would suit you perfectly."

* * *

**Tywin**

He sighed as he poured over yet another ledger. He enjoyed power, but the days were long. Even as regent, he ruled, Joffrey got all the enjoyable perks of being king. His psychotic grandson. That boy would have to be tamed and soon. Otherwise he'd be deposed. He'd lose throne as soon as the people realised that he could turn out worse than the mad king and the revolt would be massive.

It may put the Lannisters name back centuries of advancement. If the boy couldn't be tamed, he would be… dealt with. If only Joffrey really was Robert Baratheon's son. Cersei needed to be a little bit cleverer, he thought with a sigh. If she'd bore Roberts children, she could have carried on her perversions in private and no one would have ever known. Now, half the kingdom knows, or at least believe the truth.

Tywin sighed and closed the ledger, calling for more wine. He'd return to the book in a moment. As he thought that, his youngest son came waddling into the hall. He didn't want to be unkind to his son, but every time Tyrion walked into a room, he was reminded of his sons deformities. Few people laughed any more, learning that laughing was costly. But he knew there were sniggers behind closed doors.

"Leave us," Tywin commanded. The guards and squires all did, except for two guards Tywin liked to keep with him at all times. They had both lost their tongues and didn't know how to read or write. Tywin felt they were not inclined or able to divulge his secrets.

"My lord father," Tyrion said in greeting.

"What do you want?"

"Ah, no pleasantries this morning?" Tyrion asked, sitting opposite him. "Fair enough." He poured himself some wine and Tywin scowled.

"I don't have time for your games," he said. "What do you want?"

"Joffrey has been terrorising my wife," Tyrion said bluntly. Tywin sighed. Of course he had been. Joffrey wasn't going to give up his plaything because of a wedding.

"And what would you like me to do about that?" Tywin asked.

"Let me take Sansa and go to Casterly Rock," Tyrion said calmly. "The snows are coming and then travel will be impossible. It could be years before we're able to go home. And you need a Lannister at the rock. I know I'm not Jaime, but I'm what you have."

"That's not the reason you want to go to the rock though," Tywin said. "Is it?"

Tyrion's eyes were darting around, as if deciding how much to confide.

"Sansa cannot relax when she's fearing Joffrey around every corner," Tyrion said.

"And you care for her?" Tywin asked rhetorically. He didn't need an answer. He knew it was true. His sons affections for the Stark girl were growing, and all things considered, that wasn't a bad thing. If they grew to like each other, the marriage would be more likely to hold, Winterfell and the North might be further in reach of Tywin's grasp and the marriage would be fruitful. All of that was good.

"She's my wife," Tyrion said, avoiding the question. "I would quite like her not to be raped by my king."

"Go," Tywin said. "I'll make your excuses for the wedding. You can be on the road in a week." The relief on his face was almost comical. Oh, he _did_ care for her. "I have an idea to deal with Joffrey. And you're right. I do need a Lannister at the Rock. Tenon Lannister can't hold things forever."

"Thank you, lord father," Tyrion said.

"I want an heir too," Tywin reminded him.

"Yes, father." Tyrion spoke with exasperation which was much different than last time they'd mentioned it. Last time Tyrion had been adamant about not touching his bride to the point of stupidity. Now, he was agreeing meekly. He'd deflowered her, then. Good. Maybe an heir would be forthcoming soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Tyrion**

He sat looking over his ledgers, waiting for Varys to deign to visit him. He sent word he'd be here soon, but soon was open to interpretation. Much to his surprise, Varys entered the room, after only a slight delay.

"My lord Tyrion," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"I saw you with Shae the other day," Tyrion said, not wanting to draw this out.

"Shae?" Varys replied in false confusion.

"My whore," Tyrion said. "I saw you. Why is she here? Last I knew, she was on her way to the free cities."

"Ah, well she came to me before you shipped her off. For some reason, she likes Kings Landing and wanted to stay here."

"Bron saw the ship leave."

"Mm," Varys said. "And three days later it turned around on my orders."

"Okay then," Tyrion said. "Let me ask the obvious question. Why would you do that, for a whore?"

"She's a useful thing," Varys said. Tyrion felt a well of fear bubble up inside him. "Little birds can be found in all sorts of places."

"How long?" Tyrion asked. "How long had she been reporting to you?"

"Long enough," Varys said. "She never betrayed you, my lord. I feel I must tell you that. She listened in, and told me many things. But she refused to sell your secrets."

"Something to be grateful for, I suppose," Tyrion said harshly.

"Do you want to see her?" Varys asked.

"No," Tyrion replied. "Our time has gone. If she wants to remain in the capital, I can't stop her. I'd appreciate her staying out of my lady Sansa's way for a time though."

"I can arrange that," Varys said. "Until you leave for the rock."

Tyrion smiled. "Even for you, lord Varys, that's impressively quick work."

"I shan't lie," Varys said. "I won't miss you."

"Oh, and there was me thinking that everyone's life would be poorer without my company," Tyrion said.

"Take care of your wife," Varys said. "I think she'll be more important than she knows. Before all of this is over."

"Mm," Tyrion said. He had a plan. It would take a long time for it to come to fruition, but he had a plan for after the winter was over. When the Spring came. And Sansa would be strategically important, Varys was right in that. Not that he didn't care for her, he did, but he wasn't blind to her importance either.

"Goodbye, Lord Tyrion."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll see you before the week is out," Tyrion said.

"Ah yes," Varys said. "I'm sure." The spider left and Tyrion screwed the top on the bottle of ink, and closed the ledger. He wanted to get back to his wife, even if there was work to be done.

* * *

**Sansa**

She lay on the bed, her eyes closed, waiting for Tyrion. It was late, and she'd already eaten but she hoped he'd be here soon. She'd loosened the laces on her gown, but hadn't removed it because she wondered if she might enjoy Tyrion doing that himself. She rather thought she would.

She heard the door open, and she sat up smiling. A smile which faded when she saw who'd come in. "Your grace," she said quietly.

"My lady Sansa, you're looking well this evening." The words were polite, but the glint in Joffrey's eyes was predatory and evil. She could feel the dress, loose around her and wished she hadn't made it easier to remove.

"It's late and I'd like to sleep. Without wishing to be rude, your grace."  
The scowl on his face frightened her more than anything she could think of. Then he pounced on her, and within moments was pressing her to the bed.

"No, your grace," she cried out as he started grabbing her breasts, his weight making it impossible to move away from him. "No, please your grace. Please let me go. Ah!" she cried out as he slapped her around the face, presumably to keep her still.

"Be quiet, woman. I'll do what I want! I am the King!"

"Your grace, I'm a married woman," she said, trying again. She got a slap around the other side of her face for her trouble. She kept struggling, wishing that Tyrion was here more than anything.

* * *

**Margery**

Margery went to follow Joffrey. She wanted to be Queen, but she didn't trust him. His obsession with Sansa Stark was becoming dangerous, not just for her, but for the realm. If it became common knowledge that Joffrey was attempting to rape his aunt (and it was becoming an open secret around the castle. It was only a matter of time before it filtered down to the taverns.) If that became known, Joffrey would be laughed at in the streets, and reviled as a monster. She didn't want to be laughed at too. As well as the fact that she actually liked Sansa and was quite fond of her.

Margery wasn't that surprised to find that the King led the way to Sansa's chambers. Joffrey was so desperate he hadn't even closed the door. Margery waited. Not too long, but she wanted the strongest argument she could have. Sansa squealed underneath him, and she knew this had gone on long enough.

"Oh my!" she said, pretending shock as she walked in the doorway. Joffrey turned and saw her, his anger turning into surprise. "Your grace! I cannot believe… oh may the Gods help me."

"My lady Margery," Joffrey said, rushing off of the bed as Sansa covered herself up, rushing to the other side of the chamber.

"Oh, I'm not sure I can marry you after this," she said innocently. "It would just be… unthinkable."

"Oh, Margery, wait!" he said. He was about to rush after her when Tyrion walked in the door, surveying the scene. Margery could see that he understood instantly. But she couldn't resist adding fuel to the flames.

"I can no longer marry his grace," she said, wide eyed which wouldn't fool him. Tyrion was too clever. "I walked in and found him forcing himself on his aunt and I cannot marry a man who'd do that." Then Margery Tyrell flounced off, knowing she had everyone right where she wanted them.

* * *

**More tomorrow, and many thanks for the reviews so far. They let me know what I'm doing right (and wrong!) :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for the wonderful reviews and encouragement. Also, many people are asking me if Joffrey's going to die in this version of events. That would be telling! ;)**

* * *

**Tyrion.**

She's shaking violently and she can't stop it. Joffrey and Margery had gone off, leaving Tyrion and Sansa alone. Tyrion knew perfectly well what the fall out from this would be, but he'd get involved tomorrow. Margery was playing a game, she didn't really intend to break the engagement. It was a game to get Joffrey in line. To get him behaving.

"Did he touch you?" he asked forcefully.

"Yes," she said.

"Did he… rape you?" he dared to ask.

"No," she said. "I'm just… shaken up."

She looked it. Her back was pressed against the wall and she had a bed sheet clutched to her breasts.

"I've arranged it so we're leaving Kings Landing in six days," Tyrion said, at a loss for anything else to say that would help.

"Really?" she asked, dropping the bed sheet. "We're… leaving?"

"Yes. For Casterly Rock. I just need to finish my work and pass it over to my successor. Whoever he may be."

"Oh thank the Gods," Sansa said, sighing in relief. "We can leave." He saw her body softening and felt glad he could give her this small piece of peace. Then he looked at her and saw that the laces of her gown were all undone. She was hardly covered at all, and to unlace a gown like that would take time, he knew from experience. Just how long had Joffrey been alone with Sansa? And was she telling the truth when she said he hadn't raped her?

"If he did rape you, I need to know," he said, trying to treat her gently.

"No he didn't," she said.

"Your laces," he said, looking at them. "They're…" he couldn't finish.

"Oh," she said. Then she blushed slightly, looking down at herself. "I actually… I did that myself. I thought… I was waiting for you, and I wondered if you'd want to undress me yourself. So I loosened the dress. It seems stupid now."

"Oh," he said, wanting her in spite of what had just happened. Or nearly happened. "I would enjoy that," he said. "At a time when you're calmer." She smiled slightly, looked at him then turned aside before pulling her dress off. She stood with her side towards him, wearing nothing as she quickly pulled her night shift on before getting in bed.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked. "To help you sleep maybe?"

"No," she said. "Can you sleep next to me though? I trust you."

"Of course," he said, hiding his surprise. He undressed as she watched and then put on his own night shirt, getting into bed next to her. She twisted in the bed until her head rested against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She pressed a kiss to his skin, before drawing back so she could look at him.

"Tyrion," she said quietly. "I don't want you to visit whores."

He felt surprised at this request, then realised that she wasn't exactly asking.

"Why?" he said, very curious about her reasons.

"What do you mean, why?" she asked. "I don't want you to lie with another woman. Is that so unreasonable?" She bit her lip, then continued. "I know there's an expectation with noble men, but I don't want you to do it."

"Okay," he said. "I won't go with whores."

"Good." She kissed him briefly and he smiled at her, stroking a lock of her hair.

"Go to sleep, my lady." She did, her head still against his shoulder, and arm around his back. She had such faith in him that he felt warm all the way through. To have gone through all that she had, and yet still trust him… that was remarkable.

* * *

**Sansa**

She's awoken to her husband stroking her back gently. It's still dark and there's only the stub of one candle still burning, leaving just enough light to see by, but she knew he was awake. "Mm…"

"Sansa, are you okay?"

"Mm," she murmured as his hand kept stroking her. "Don't stop. That feels good." If she were fully awake, she'd never have said that, but as it was, she didn't mind him knowing how much she enjoyed it. His hand slipped lower, to her bum, squeezing gently. She moaned, and pushed her body closer to Tyrion in response. She bent her head to kiss him, then sighed as he pushed her shift up. After a quick struggle she removed it, her hands sliding over his chest to get his night shirt off too. With the haze of sleep still over her, she felt bolder than usual. Bolder than a lady should act like, but at this moment in time she didn't care.

It happened in a misty haze of sensation. She felt too close to sleep for her mind to be truly awake, and her thinking to get in the way. Once left to it's own devices, her body knew what to do. It was quick and intense, and this time it didn't hurt at all.

Once she could breathe without gasping for air, she curled around him, smiling as he stroked her hair. "I'm going to sleep," she announced.

"Okay," Tyrion said. "Goodnight. Again."

"Goodnight Tyrion."

* * *

In the morning, she wasn't sure whether they'd actually made love in the middle of the night. It had a dream like quality to it, and they'd not spoken much while it was happening. She ran a hand down her body, finding she was naked, and smiled. It had happened then.

"Sansa?" She opened her eyes and saw her husband and Podrick in her chamber. She clutched the sheet to her body in reflex, not wanting Podrick to see her, then Briony came in, adding to the fullness of the room.

Tyrion looked at her, smiling. "I have to meet Bron, and a couple of other people," he said. "I'm sorry."

"No, you have to go. I understand," she said. He walked over to the bed and kissed her soundly.

"What are you doing today?"

"I'm ill," she said bluntly. He looked at her in concern and she feigned a cough and he smiled, seeing she wasn't serious. "I don't want to move from this bed today. I'm tired."

"Okay," he said. "But eat. And keep the door locked.

"Joffrey, you mean?"

"I mean that there are too many undesirable people lurking around," he said. "And I worry about you."

"I'll keep the door locked," she promised. "Go." He did, leaving Briony with her. "I need to sleep," she said. "Bar the door when you leave." Then she curled up on her side and drifted away.

* * *

**6 days later**

**Sansa**

She watched from the carriage as the city became smaller and smaller on the horizon. And soon enough, it was gone. She let out a breath of pure relief and sat back on the seat. She'd left Kings Landing.

"Are you happy, my lady?" Tyrion asked.

"There were many days that I didn't think I'd ever leave that city behind. I thought I'd die within its walls. It is… freeing to leave."

"Yes," Tyrion agreed. "It is." Before either of them could speak there was a squawk outside the carriage door. Tyrion let the door open for a moment and a raven came in, letter tied to his leg. Quickly, Tyrion took it off, then called for a guard. "Put him in a cage. We might need to send letter from the road."

"Yes, m'lord." Then he read the letter, not letting Sansa see it.

"What is it?" she couldn't resist from asking.

"It's letting me know something's at the Rock," he said happily. He was pleased, and she could tell. "I've been looking for a homecoming gift for you. I found what I wanted." He let the tiny scroll curl back up and stowed it away.

"You've got a gift for me?" she asked, pleased.

"Well, I've been looking for… it, since my father told me we were to be married," he said. "It's been hard to find, though. I'm glad my money got one."

"One what?" she asked eagerly.

"Oh no," he said. "You're going to have to wait until we get to the Rock. You'll like it though." She play fought with him, trying to get the letter, which after several minutes left her breathless, her hands in Tyrion's tight grip, and her face near his.

"Patience is a virtue, my dear wife. You'll get your gift when we arrive… home."

She leaned forward to kiss him gently, before a bump in the road rocked them apart. "I hate this carriage," she said quietly.

"It won't be too long."


	14. Chapter 14

**Tyrion**

Three days later, Sansa wasn't getting on well with the carriage they were taking. She looked pale, and every bump in the road made her feel queasy. "Please, can't I just ride a horse?" she asked him on the third day past Kings Landing. "I can't bear this."

"We don't have a side saddle," he said.

"I don't need one," she said simply. "I can ride a horse properly." She shrugged. "You can't control a horse properly with a side saddle anyway."

He thought about it, but then thought there wasn't much danger in letting her ride. He rapped the door twice, bringing them to a stop. "Yes, m'lord?"

"My wife would like to ride a horse. Find her one." There was a slight pause, but then the guard went off, looking for a suitable mount. They had about thirty guards, and several carts carrying their household items, and things that Tywin wanted sent back to Casterly. Soon, a brown horse was found.

"Sorry, m'lord, but there's no side saddle for m'lady."

"There's no need," she said, stepping out of the carriage. She let a guard give her a boost into the saddle then sighed happily. She took up the reins in her hand and Tyrion watched as she got used to the horse, racing ahead for almost a mile as a couple of guards scrambled to catch up to her, before she turned and rode backwards towards them. Tyrion smiled at her obvious pleasure in being free to ride, her hair streaming out in a red banner behind her. She looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Free and happy.

"Shall we move on then?" Tyrion said, keeping the curtain drawn back so he could watch his wife ride.

As they moved on, Bron came to his side, trotting at the same speed as the carriage. He watched Tyrion's eye line, watching Sansa Stark riding. "She looks good on a horse," Bron said casually.

"She's radiant," Tyrion replied, before he could stop himself.

* * *

**Sansa**

Would this road never end? They'd been one days travel away from Casterly Rock for three days now. But the weather was bad and they barely made any progress at all. Because of the sleet and the rain, she'd been unable to ride a horse and had been stuck in the carriage. There were certain things she could get away with, being Lady Lannister, but riding a horse in the freezing rain wasn't one of them. Not to mention it being uncomfortable anyway.

But this carriage journey was going to be the death of her. Every sway of the road made her stomach roll, and she'd been sick countless times. On the third morning of this terrible weather, they'd barely travelled a mile before she opened the door and vomited. She felt Tyrion's hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles as she emptied her stomach. He passed her a water skin and she rinsed her mouth out.

"When are we going to get there?" she asked desperately. "We've been less than a days ride away for three days. I'm feeling like I'm falling apart."

He looked at her and she knew what he'd be seeing. Her white face and bloodless lips. The fact she'd not been able to keep any food down in days. He knew she was serious. Tyrion rapped on the door of the carriage and Sansa moaned as it swayed to a stop.

"M'lord?" a guard asked.

"I need a quill, ink, parchment and Bron." Tyrion said firmly. "And my wife's warmest furs."

It took a good ten minutes for him to get what he wanted, and he started writing a note, even though the hammering rain made everything damp and the ink smudge.

"Get warm," he said to her. She wrapped herself up in her furs and sighed with relief as he signed the note and handed it to Bron.

"I want you to take her on your fastest horse to Casterly Rock," Tyrion told his sellsword. "It'll take merely an hour if you're on your own and racing there. It'll be all day in the train, we're moving so slowly. My wife is cold and ill."

"Will do," Bron said cheerfully, in spite of the rain that lashed down on him.

"Bron, I want no harm to come to her," he said forcefully. "If you were not my friend, I wouldn't trust you with this. With her."

"All right, don't worry yourself," Bron said. "The little lady will be safe with me."

"If she's not, I will cut your throat. I like you, so I won't make your death a long drawn out affair."

"Don't threaten your friends when you're asking them favours," Bron said. He smiled at Tyrion for a moment. "She'll be safe. Trust me."

"The note will help if you run into trouble on the road. I don't think you will, this deep in Lannister country, but just in case." Bron nodded, waiting for Sansa to leave.

"You'll be more comfortable," Tyrion said to her. "One hour and you can be in a feather bed."

"Won't you come with us?" she asked, not wanting to be parted from him.

"I can't ride a normal saddle," he admitted. "I don't have my modified one with me and the horse won't be able to bear the weight of all three of us. Even when the third is small like me. And the carriage doesn't make me violently ill, the way it does you."

"You'll be with me soon?" she asked.

"We're not far now. I think the train will be there by nightfall at the latest," he said.

"Okay." She kissed him deeply and fervently, and he responded to her embrace. They parted after Bron cleared his throat to try and get their attention. She put the hood of her cloak up and stepped out of the carriage into the rain, letting Bron help her onto the horse.

She turned to him and smiled slightly. "Come home, my lord."

"I will," he said.

"See you at dinner," Bron said lightly, before giving his horse a smack on the rump and galloping off.

"We can get going!" Tyrion called to the guard. The train slowly picked up pace, inching its way towards the Rock.

* * *

**Bron**

It's a relief to be able to ride at full speed throughout the fields. The horse seems to enjoy it too, eager to move on from the snail of the Lannister escort. They'd been travelling for a total of ten days now, and he'd noticed that after the first flush of freedom, that Sansa didn't do well with travel, especially in inclement weather. She needed to lie down on a bed, somewhere that didn't move, and he knew it.

Even tired and ill as she was, he knew that she was a good horsewoman. Her legs kept tightening and relaxing on the horse by instinct, even though he was in control. Her gloved hand kept pulling on an invisible rein to try and control the horse. A child didn't do that. An accomplished horsewoman did.

Bron knew that the relationship between Lady Sansa and Tyrion had developed, and he also knew how much Tyrion valued her. And not just for title and her claim to the kingdom of the North. No, he valued her for her. Mind you, Bron thought, judging by the feel of her arse against him, he didn't blame Lord Tyrion one bit.

The road went uphill, and he knew this was the last climb, the cliff top climb to Casterly Rock. He'd never been here exactly, but he'd been around these parts. He knew the Rock was a fortress, high on the cliff top. He could smell the salt of the sea, so they had to be close.

"That's Casterly Rock?" Sansa said, her voice holding surprise. The building was massive, looking exactly like a fortress. It looked higher than the red keep, and if you took into account the cliff top it was on, it might be half as high as the wall itself. It was a light bricked building, looking a bit grim in the rain and the fog. But still spectacular.

"Well it don't look like a tavern now, does it?" Bron said easily. "We'll get you dry soon, m'lady. Come on," he added to the horse, urging him up the slope. Soon they were at the gateway, shaped like a massive lions head. The gateway was the mouth, which was barred and heavily manned.

"Who goes there?!" two guards asked.

"I'm bringing Lady Sansa Lannister home," Bron said, trying to be polite. "We're cold, tired and would like some shelter. His lordship, Lord Tyrion sent us ahead of the train." Bron handed the note which was quickly read by the guard.

"Open the gate!" the guard commanded instantly. It opened quickly, and the guard apologised. "Sorry m'lady," he said. "We can never be too careful in these times. Welcome to the Rock, Sansa Lannister."

* * *

**Next instalment will be delayed by a few days I'm afraid. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the interruption in updating. I had an extremely important book to read. (Anyone who's read Diana Gabladon's Outlander series will understand.) I'll try to get back to once a day, and thanks for your patience.**

* * *

**Sansa**

"I'm Tya Lannister, my lady," the maid said. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Fish," she said. "I want fish, please. Then just sleep." The maid nodded and hurried out of her chambers. Sansa looked out of the window and sighed. It was dark, but Tyrion hadn't arrived. She felt shocked at how much she missed him, and how worried she felt. They were in the heart of Lannister territory and not much harm could come to Tyrion. Even if it did, he was more than capable of talking himself out of it. _Ask the Gods, what would she be like if he ever went to war?_

Tya returned with a meal of sea bass quickly, much quicker than the service at Kings Landing. _But I was a prisoner there. Now I rule the house,_ she reminded herself. Of course her standing had risen.

She ate the meal quickly, before undressing and getting into bed. Which felt luxurious between silk sheets. "Leave me," she said to her maid. "Actually, no," she said. "When Lord Tyrion gets home, wake me up."

"Of course, my lady," Tya said.

"Thank you." With that, she pulled the covers over herself and went to sleep.

* * *

She awoke to Tyrion's lips on her neck. She smiled and rolled towards him, opening her eyes. "You're here," she murmured.

"Apparently." He smiled at her, kissing her lips delicately. "Are you feeling any better, now you're not travelling?"

"Yes," she said fervently. "Much."

"Good," he said. He kissed her again deeply, and her hands started wandering over his body. They hadn't made love since they left Kings Landing, Sansa feeling uncomfortable to do so in the inns they'd stayed at. Now, she felt free enough to do whatever she wanted. Her hand wrapped around his manhood and he groaned.

"Are you sure you're not too tired?" he asked.

"I'm not tired," she said, smiling at him. "Not in the least." He smiled and bent his head to her, glad that it was a long time until morning.

* * *

Sansa awoke to a yap. She jerked upright, her heart racing as she stared into yellow eyes. Eyes which weren't human. Then she realised what it was she was looking at. "Oh my… Where did you get her?!" Sansa asked loudly, seeing the direwolf pup walking over her bed.

"Do you like her?" Tyrion asked, smiling at his wife's reaction. He lay in bed next to her, watching the direwolf.

"She's beautiful," she said, picking up the pup and holding her gently. "Where did she come from?"

"Ever since I knew I was to marry you, I've been looking for one. Discreetly," Tyrion said. "They're really hard to find, so it seems."

"Oh, thank you," she said, smiling as the pup growled playfully. "Have you given her a name?"

"No," Tyrion said. "I thought that would be your… duty."

"I think… Arya might be fitting," she said sadly. "If I'd never argued with her, then our wolves might have… Arya." Her husband smiled at her as she watched the puppy. "I've been meaning to ask," she said. "About her. Have you… have the Lannisters found her? And just not told me?"

"No," Tyrion said gently. "She's not been found by anyone in Kings Landing, I promise you. That could never have been kept secret."

"Oh. Good," she replied. "I wondered if you'd found her body and no one had bothered to tell me."

"If I knew anything about your sister, I would tell you," Tyrion said, kissing her cheek gently.

"Okay," she said. "Do you think… she's alive?"

"No," Tyrion said gently. "I'm sorry, but I don't."

"Oh."

"She was how old when she ran from King's Landing?" he asked. "Eleven?" Sansa nodded. "She'd be thirteen now if she's still alive. What are the chances of an eleven year old girl staying alive for two years on the run? With no one recognising her? It's possible. But not likely. I'm sorry Sansa."

"No, don't be," she said. "I thought that anyway. I just thought that if someone could survive alone, it would be her. She's so wild and… well, unladylike."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. She kissed him lightly, a brief peck then turned her attention to the wolf.

She spoke to the animal, even though her words were for Tyrion. "Actually, my lord, I have a… homecoming gift for you too."

"Oh?"

"Mm," she said. "There'll be a little lion around the place in a few months."

She watched him, and it took a moment for what she was saying to sink in.

"You're… with child?"

"It's early, but yes," she said. "I'm expecting. Does that please you?"

"Don't hide behind formalities," he said firmly. "And yes, that does make me very happy." She grinned and he kissed her deeply, his hands entwining in her hair.

* * *

**I clearly didn't hide that well, as loads of people guessed Sansa was pregnant! I'm not sure where to go, so I'm taking opinions. What would people prefer, Tyrion / Sansa romance, or adding a bit of plot with other characters in regards to the iron throne and Westeros. Let me know! Thanks for reading.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you all for your input and reviews. Here's the next instalment.**

* * *

**Tyrion**

He can't reach her. Sansa's tucked herself away in a tiny room in her head. She isn't talking to anyone at all. Not her maids and certainly not her husband. The only thing she talks to is the direwolf cub. Ever since she'd told him about the baby, she hadn't spoken to him. Tyrion is worried that she hates it here. Maybe bringing her to Casterly Rock wasn't such a good idea. If she really felt this unhappy would it have been better to stay in the capital?

After a few days of this uncomfortable silence, he knew he had to talk to her. Try and get her to open up. Whatever she had to say to him, it couldn't be worse than the quiet. Did she want to leave him? Was she plotting to run away? To Winterfell maybe? He didn't know, so he arranged to have dinner in their private dining room with no one there listening.

Once their dinners were placed on the table, Tyrion dismissed the servants. He didn't want people listening to them. "Lady Sansa, will you please talk to me," he said. "You've been silent for days. Have I upset you in some fashion?"

"No," she said, looking up from her plate to him. "Of course not, my lord. Tyrion, I mean." She forced a smile.

"Whatever is bothering you, please talk to me."

"Even if you can't help?"

"Even if I can't," he said, hoping it would be something easier to solve than that. "Has… are any of the guards giving you unwanted attentions?" he asked in the silence. "The kind of attention Joffrey was giving you?"

"Oh no, Tyrion," she said, wide eyed. "Nothing like that."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand tightly, relieved. He'd hate to ruin his homecoming by executing one of his guards for leering at his wife. It would ruin the jovial atmosphere of being back in Casterly Rock after so long away.

"I'm… very frightened," she said, her eyes wet with tears she wasn't letting fall.

"Of what, my lady?"

"Of the baby," she said, putting a hand over her stomach. Arya yapped at her feet and she picked up a scrap of meat off her plate, dropping it to the wolf. "I'm terrified for the baby."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because what if he…"

"What if he's a dwarf," Tyrion finished for her, feeling hollow. She was frightened that their child would take after him.

"No, that's not what I…"

"It's all right," he said, trying to reassure her. "I understand. Is it that you couldn't love a dwarf child?" he asked, trying to keep the criticism in his voice hidden.

"Of course not," she said. "I know perfectly well I could love a dwarf, because there's a dwarf I love sitting opposite me." He was silent, thinking about the massive implications of that sentence. Before he could speak, she carried on. "It isn't being the mother of a dwarf which worries me. It's… giving birth to a dwarf. Your mother died in childbirth. My grandmother did too. Women die in childbirth every single day. I'm scared I'm going to die."

"Oh," he said. There was nothing he could say to reassure her on that count. It was a very valid fear, she might well die in childbed. The thought felt like ice flooding his body. To lose her in that way… well, he wouldn't. "I'm going to employ the best maesters and midwives. You'll have the best chance. I can't lie to you and give you false hope."

"I know that," she said. "And my mother bore five healthy children, so that's something. Isn't it?"

"Of course," he said. "Now about that "loving a dwarf" part."

She smiled widely at him. "Oh," she said in a much different tone. "Well, yes," she admitted.

"I never thought I'd manage to get a high born lady to say that to me."

"Don't," she said with wide eyes. He remembered how young she was and felt guilty for teasing her.

"I love you, Sansa," he said, looking into her eyes, trying to get her to see that he meant it. "Ah!" Arya had bit his foot, and her teeth were sharp. "Wolves aside. I do love you."

"Shall we forget dinner and go to bed?" she said.

"If you're sure?" he asked.

"I'm tired," she said. "Sleeping on a feather bed with you would be wonderful."

"Okay. Let me undress you my lady." She did, more than willingly.

* * *

**Sorry that it's another short chapter, but I don't want to split the next bit up. More soon.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sansa**

Over the next few days, she explored the rock. Winterfell had been all stone walls, warm fires, thick furs and close families. Casterly Rock was not like that at all. It had wide rooms with sea views, filled with pained scenes of great battles, and Lannisport. There were balconies everywhere in the lord and ladies apartments at the top of the fortress. Lower down, there were less and the lightness of the upper floors vanished.

Then in the basements and the dungeons, everything was cold stone. She couldn't say she'd been everywhere in the fortress, but she'd seen a great deal of it. The building was massive.

"My lady, I want to show you something." She looked up from her embroidery to see Tyrion. She'd been sitting on the balcony, wrapped up against the wind with Arya nipping at her heels.

"Show me what?" she asked.

"Follow me." She took his arm and did, leaving their chambers and leaving the wolf to go where Tyrion wanted. They went down five flights of stairs, small stone steps, but taking them down deeper and deeper into the rock. Maybe she hadn't seen as much as she thought. They descended lower and lower, until there was no daylight streaming in. The halls were lit by torches and nothing else. She tightened her grip on Tyrion's hand as he tried to take a torch down from the bracket. She helped him as he couldn't reach and handed it to him, lighting the hallway ahead of them.

"Where are we going?"

"We're nearly there," he said. "Don't worry, you'll like it." He unlocked a wooden door, heavy and old, pushing it open and setting the torch on an inner wall, lighting the room. She walked in, and looked around. It was a medium sized underground stone room, with a natural pool in the centre. She looked at Tyrion in confusion.

"Touch it," he said. She bent down and put her fingers in the water, expecting it to be cold. It wasn't. It felt hot, wonderfully hot. She gasped in delight.

"What keeps it so warm?" she asked.

"No idea," Tyrion said gently. "It's a freak of nature. Like me."

"Does it stay hot?"

"Yes," he said. "Constantly. They used to say it was heated by dragons, but that's not very likely." She smiled at him.

"Did dragons really exist?" she asked as she sat down on the edge of the pool, kicked her shoes off, rolled her stockings down and dipped her feet in, sighing with pleasure as she wiggled her toes. "It seems unlikely and I wondered if dragons were real. Or just woven into the legends we tell ourselves about Westeros history."

"Oh, they're real," Tyrion said, watching her feet in the water happily. "Daenerys Targaryen has three dragons in Essos."

"Does she?" Sansa asked with scepticism.

"Such cynicism from one so young," Tyrion said with a smile. He followed her lead and sat next to her, dipping his feat in the warm pool. "All of Kings Landing returning spies, who've come back across the narrow sea, they all say the same thing. They say that Daenerys has three dragons, and is gathering her armies to invade Westeros and take back her fathers throne. And when she crosses the narrow sea, there will be no stopping her."

"Will she come here?"

"Yes," Tyrion said. "I would if I were her. The question isn't if. It's when. It always was a question of when," he added under his breath. "Kings Landing and it's rulers have always known she will come. But she was half a world away with three baby dragons. No real threat. Now those dragons are grown, and she is coming."

"Will she win?"

"Yes," Tyrion said. "It will be bloody and messy, but she will win. Westeros has spent too long fighting it's internal power struggles. We don't have a large enough army, even assuming we could get all the noble houses to agree to fight her, which they won't. She will sit on the Iron Throne before Spring."

"You seem very sure," Sansa said.

"My father's not a fool," Tyrion said, taking her hand. "And he's a very practical man. He knows that when Daenerys invades, the Lannisters will be destroyed. Do you really think she'll let Jaime live? The man who betrayed and murdered her father? Do you think she'll allow Cersei to live? The woman who was queen for seventeen years, married to Robert Baratheon who stole her fathers throne? No, they will die. If and when Daenery Targaryen invades Kings Landing, my family will be obliterated."

"You seem very calm about that," Sansa said hollowly.

"It's the reason I'm really here," Tyrion said. "Back home. Tywin values the Lannister name and legacy above everything else. He doesn't want to have his entire family on one side. On the losing side. If I'm tucked up here, then I'll avoid the war. And the family will live on. Assuming Daenerys wins, of course. If she loses, I'll be executed as a traitor, and my father will finally be rid of me."

"How do you know all this?" she asked. Tyrion smiled without humour.

"Because I'm a dwarf," he said. "I've never been sent to do something… allowed to do something for my own benefit. We're not here to make you happy. To get you out of Kings Landing, we're here because I'm being manipulated. So it looks like I helped Daenerys invade. After all, how hard is it to believe a dwarf would be a traitor to his own family?" he added bitterly.

He reached into his pocket and took out a small scroll, which he handed to her. "A rider came with this earlier today. A very fast rider who near killed his horse." She unrolled it and read it quickly. It was from Tywin at Kings Landing.

_Tyrion. _

_My spies inform me that Daenerys Targaryen is beginning to move her armies to Pentos. It's the perfect place to gather before invading Westeros. It might take her months to get there, it's still half the world away from her. We cannot win to her and her dragons when she chooses to take her fathers throne. And we can't kill her quietly either. She's too well guarded and well advised. We should have dealt with her before now, but it's too late. Extend the hand of friendship to her now, before we become obliterated. But do it very quietly. I'm counting on you. Do this for the legacy of our family, and do not leave the Rock._

"So… what now?" Sansa asked, handing the note back to him. "Will you send word to her?"

"Yes," he said. "Its probably wise to have someone on her side in any case."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

"Because I have no one to talk to I trust," he said. "You. I trust you." She smiled at him. "But for now, we wait," Tyrion said.

Sansa bit her lip and then pushed Tyrion into the pool, leaving him spluttering as she giggled at him. He coughed, looking up at her. "You'll regret that, Sansa," he teased, pulling her legs so she fell in next to him. She laughed as she gasped for air. She stretched her legs, but she couldn't touch the bottom.

"It's deep!"

"Is it?" he said. "I wouldn't know." She smiled, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him lightly as they trod water. His hands went to the laces on the back of her dress, wanting to loosen them, but they were too tight. The knot seemed impossible to undo, wet as it was. He contented himself to feeling her body through her dress.

"I like it here," she said quietly.

"Good," he said.

"I feel… not quite at home, but safe."

"Good," he repeated. He kissed her again and she sighed into the embrace. He felt so good against her skin, and she never wanted to leave the hot pool.

* * *

**More soon. Thank you for the reviews and follows so far. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Tyrion**

Three important things happened today. A wedding, a death and a letter. The bells were ringing joyously all over the country for King Joffrey and Margery's wedding. Within four hours though, the happy bells had been replaced by the low tolling of a lone bell. The death knell. As soon as the bells from Lannisport changed their tenor, Sansa looked at him.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said, moving to a window, waiting. Someone was dead. Someone important, and he waited for a raven to tell him who. The death bell to ring so quickly, it could only be one of a handful of people. The King. Margery Tyrell, Tywin. Cersei maybe. Not many other people.

Sansa put aside her stitching and stood beside him, looking out of the window like he did. Within five minutes, they saw two birds flying towards them. One was a black raven, the other was white. They both watched in silence as the birds flew towards them. They came through the window within a minute of each other. Tyrion took the letter from the white one, while Sansa removed the tie from the raven. He caged both birds before turning to the letters, the ravens message first.

_King Joffrey is dead. Poisoned at his own wedding feast. Investigations are underway to find the culprit. Long live King Tommen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms._

There was no signature, but Tyrion recognised Varys's hand. It could only have come from the spider. He handed the note to her and she read it. "Joffrey's dead?"

"Yes," Tyrion said. "If you're going to smile, smile here where we're alone. You can't afford to let anyone know you're happy the King has been murdered, Sansa."

She did smile, widely and happily. "Is it true?" she asked.

"That's from Varys. I imagine it is true."

"Thank the Gods," she said, closing her eyes and sighing in relief. Her torturer was gone. Then her eyes popped open, and she looked at him in horror. "I… I'm sorry my lord. I forget sometimes that he's your nephew. He's not like you at all."

"Thank you for the compliment," Tyrion said, smiling at her. "And he might have been my nephew, but he's damaged. As damaged as the mad King maybe. He wasn't fit to rule. I know that."

"Was he…?" she didn't finish her sentence.

"Go on," he urged.

"Was Joffrey Jaime's bastard?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes," he said, feeling it didn't matter to tell her that. After all, half the country believed it anyway.

"And… Tommen and Marcella?"

"Are his too," Tyrion said. "Don't… mention that to anyone."

"I won't," she said firmly. "I'll keep my mouth shut. That's one thing I know how to do."

"I'm sure," he said. He took the other, larger scroll from the white bird and unrolled it.

_My Lord Tyrion Lannister_

_It is so good to hear of a friend from home. Though I do believe that these particular friends have been enjoying my absence from my throne. So forgive me if I don't think your hand of friendship is entirely sincere. However, in the spirit of this new… friendship, I would be very interested to know about the details of Westeros. Which lords rule where? Have the winter snows fallen yet? Who else can I rely on to make my succession to power as smoothly as possible. Assuming I can rely on you, my Lord Lannister. What's happened to the Starks of Winterfell? I keep getting varying accounts of that, as no one seems to know. My advisors tell me the North is a wild place, unable to be held from an outsider. I'm not coming for six of the seven kingdoms. I want them all, as is my birthright._

_Until I hear from you again, my lord. Daenerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the first men, Lord of the seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the great grass sea, Mother of dragons, Breaker of Chains, Queen of Meereen._

"Gods be good, her name is getting ridiculous."

Sansa smiled at that. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to tell her the truth. We can't win any other way."

"Shall we forget the war for a night?" she asked, smiling sweetly. She started loosening her dress as he watched, smiling. "Send a message down to Lannisport to stop that bell ringing, get a bottle of wine, and meet me in bed. I'm a celebratory mood."

He stood in silence, watching as her dress fell to the floor in a swoosh of fabric. She removed her shift and stood naked, smiling as she fiddled with a lock of her hair. She was only two months pregnant, but the baby was making itself known. Her previously flat stomach had taken on a slight curve, and he noticed the difference. "Make the bell stop," she said again. "I'm waiting in bed. If you take too long, I might fall asleep."

"I'll be back in minutes, my dear wife," he said. She grinned widely.

* * *

**Tywin**

He's only just dressed when the door burst open, cold rush of air billowing in along with his daughter.

"What do you want, Cersei?" he asked, not really in the mood for her games.

"We still haven't caught my sons murderer," she said without preamble. Her face was white, except for her eyes which were puffy and red rimmed. She'd been crying, then.

"No," Tywin said, though it hadn't been a question.

"Why not?" she demanded. "Someone murdered the King, your grandson, and you're letting them get away with it? What investigations are being made?"

"No one is admitting to knowing anything," Tywin said. "Even under… rigorous questioning." His tone made it clear that torture was involved. Cersei quietened, but the look on her face was doubtful. Tywin didn't like that look.

"You're not a coward," he told her. "You're a lion of the rock. You came here to say something. So say it."

"Did you have a hand in murdering my son?" her eyes blazing.

"No," he said. "I can't deny it's a bad thing as Joffrey would have been a terrible mad king. Worse maybe than anything we've had before as he was vicious too. A bloodthirsty lunatic. No, I'm not mourning the fact that the king we have now is… controllable."

He knew it was coming, but he let her do it anyway. She slapped him. He grabbed her wrist tightly as she went to do it again.

"You get one," he said. "No more. And I did not murder your son," he lied.

"Good," she said. "Because I will make whoever killed my son shorter by a head. No matter what Lordship they hold, or how important they are."

"As is your right," he said. "We'll find the culprit." _Or scapegoat,_ he added silently. Someone had to die for this crime, and it wouldn't be him.

* * *

**More soon, though this is all I have written so far. It might be a few days in between chapters now. Thank you for the follows and especially the reviews.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Tyrion**

How can she do that? He's standing on a Balcony, watching his wife (his naked pregnant wife, he reminded himself) swim in the ocean. She's just a white blur from here, with her shock of red hair brightening the view. There were maybe six or seven maids around her, making sure no mischief came to her, a couple in the water and looking less than pleased, he saw with amusement. He wasn't worried. He's never seen her happier, and when he told her that the water was freezing and she couldn't possibly swim in it, she'd said sweetly "it isn't freezing, otherwise it'd be iced over. My blood runs cold anyway. Northerner."

He'd been most shocked when she'd rushed into the water, laughing rather than crying out with the cold. But he did enjoy watching her, and he smiled as a wave crashed over her head, leaving her spluttering. It sometimes was so easy to forget that she was still so young. She'd been through so much that she didn't seem fifteen. At times like this, she was young, innocent and carefree. He loved to see his wife like this.

* * *

An hour later, Sansa sat by a roaring fire, wrapped in furs as she warmed up, her hair a dark stream of damp locks down her back. "I don't know how you do it," he said.

"Because it's fun," she said simply, grinning at him. "When's the last time you did something purely because it was fun? And drinking and whoring doesn't count."

"I haven't been whoring," he said indignantly. "You know that."

"It's nice to hear, though," she said, smiling at him. She leaned across to him and kissed him softly, sucking his lip delicately. He groaned at the feeling of her tongue against him, wanting to take her to bed.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "Later, though. When I'm dry and Arya isn't growling for attention."

At this point the noticed for the first time that the now medium sized wolf was glaring at him with yellow eyes. Hmm. The wolf had been a good idea in theory, but he suddenly realised that Arya would protect Sansa over and above anything else. Including him, who the wolf clearly considered a threat.

Arya jumped up onto her lap, resting her head against Sansa's pregnant stomach protectively as Sansa wrapped her arms around the wolf.

"She doesn't like me," Tyrion said.

"Ah well," Sansa said. "She likes me, that's the point." Arya stretched up and licked Sansa's face, making her smile. He smiled back.

* * *

**Daenerys**

Oh, the dust. She never realised how much dust an army could kick up. A large army, but even so. Dany wanted to ride at the front of her army, but the temptation to ride in the carriage was becoming greater by the day.

A flutter of white came to her in the haziness of the sky. She held her hand out with a smile, taking the scroll from the white raven. At the moment, only one person was sending her white ravens from Westeros, though Ser Barristan assured her more would come as the weeks turned into months and people realised there was no escaping her army. But this had to be from Tyrion Lannister. The brother of the man who murdered her father. She put the raven carefully in a cage, needing to keep it and her connection to Westeros safe. Then she loosened the scroll.

_Your Grace,_

_With regards to the Starks of Winterfell, much is uncertain. I have married Sansa Stark, and we are expecting our first child. To be honest, my Queen, that probably isn't what you'd like to hear. As to the other Stark children, Robb is dead, Arya is missing, presumed dead and Theon Greyjoy murdered the two youngest boys. At the moment the North men are all at home, huddled by their fires while they sit out the winter. They have no desire for war and want to stay safe until Spring._

_The snows are beginning to fall thickly now. The North is completely cut off for travel, and the weather is deteriorating Southwards. Travel is still possible, and probably will be throughout Dorne and Highgarden for the entire winter. Unless it's a particularly vicious and cold one._

_The usurper Joffrey Baratheon is dead. In his place is his younger brother Tommen. He's nine. If you want to invade, all the main players are in Kings Landing, to sit out the winter._

_Your humble servant, Tyrion Lannister, acting Lord of Casterly Rock._

She let the scroll roll itself back up and handed it to Ser Barristan who rode next to her. "Well? What do you think?"

"I think the Lannisters are scared," he said after a moment. "They would not be contacting you if they weren't."

"His brother…"

"Yes," Ser Barristan said. "Well, we can't be held accountable for our families actions now, can we?"

"But, he's only talking to me now because…"

"Because you're on the verge of invading and you have dragons," he finished for her. "Yes. But in order to take Westeros, you will need support from people like him. You can take Kings Landing a hundred times over, slay every man in the city. It won't make you the ruler of Westeros. You need the Lannisters and people like them to pick up the pieces when the war is over."

"Mm," she said, unconvinced.

"My queen, you cannot be in two places at once. As much as you may hate it, you need Tyrion and by extension his wife Sansa to hold your country for you. He's made himself a traitor to his King by even sending you that. To his nephew."

"Only because he thinks I'll win," Daenerys said.

"Yes," Ser Barristan said. "When people are faced with death, they'll usually do whatever they have to to stay alive."

"What if he's spying for his father?" she asked.

"And tell him what?" Ser Barristan replied with a smile. "We're on the move? We're invading Westeros when our forces are gathered in Pentos? I imagine he already knows that. Armies don't move quietly or with subtlety. We're all but announcing our ride to war with this march."

"That's true," she conceded. "Shall I write back?"

"I would," he said honestly. "When we've stopped for the night." She smiled and kicked her horse to speed him up. They were falling behind in the train.

* * *

**More when it's written. Thank you for the reviews and follows so far! :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm skipping forward in time here. Five months or so. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Sansa**

She groaned as she rolled over in her sleep. The baby was kicking, hard. "Are you all right?" Tyrion asked, his voice hoarse and cracked with sleep.

"Mm," she said. "Your son is kicking me under my ribs. It hurts."

"That's my boy," he said, turning to his wife and putting his hands on her large abdomen. Tyrion smiled when he felt another kick against his palm and she moaned quietly. "Do you need a maester?" he asked, hearing her in pain.

"No," she said. "I'm fine. Or… we're fine, I should say." She hissed again though, and he couldn't resist.

"I'm going to get one to check that you're okay," he said. "And the baby."

"Oh," she said, rolling her eyes. "Tell the maid to send breakfast up, then. I'm hungry."

* * *

Within twenty minutes, there was a table laden with food and maester Danrah was there, his hands on Sansa's stomach. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

"I think… I'm fairly certain my lady, that you're carrying twins."

"What?" she said, sure she'd misheard.

"What?" Tyrion asked, wide eyed. "Twins. Are you sure?"

"I can't be one hundred per cent sure until they're born. But I'm fairly certain from their positioning in the womb."

"Oh, seven hells," Sansa said, burying her face in her hands. "Twins!" She could feel her composure breaking, and she distantly heard Tyrion making everyone leave. She was sat at the table, her head in her hands, breakfast all but forgotten.

"Sansa, it'll be okay."

"Twins! No wonder my belly was swelling so quickly. Oh fuck it." He'd never heard her swear like that. Not once. She was always so ladylike, she always put a cover on what she was really feeling and thinking.

"It will be fine," he said.

"I've got to give birth to two babies at once!" she said, pulling her hair in frustration. "One was bad enough, but two!"

"Calm down," he said, rubbing her back gently as she collapsed in her chair, her head resting on the table as she cried out her tears. Once she'd quietened, he spoke again. "You'll love them when they're here," he said. "You won't believe you were capable of feeling such love."

"You're not helping me right now," she said. "I'm already dreading giving birth, and now…"

"I feel I should apologise as it seems twins run in my family."

"Yes," she said, smiling weakly. "It's all your fault." He smiled back, pleased to see her not crying. "They're not going to end up like your twin siblings though," she added, making her point plain.

"Of course not," he said firmly. "I promise."

"I love you," she said.

"Good," he said, smiling at her gently. "I love you too."

"I miss my mother," she said quietly. "I miss my sister."

"I know," he said. "If I could fix it for you, I would. But…"

"I know," she said. "Thank you, though." She smiled at her husband gently.

* * *

**Arya**

The water's freezing, the current fast, but she dipped her head under the surface of the river, spluttering as she came up for air. It had been months since she'd had a good wash, but now she'd lost the hound… It was early in the morning and she was totally alone for the first time in years. And even though the weather was bloody cold, she needed to wash.

She thought of the Hound and how he'd reached his end. They'd been attacked in the night, which was the only way they'd have caught him without killing him. Five knights from Kings Landing. Arya hadn't been asleep, so she'd heard the horses in the distance. Not knowing what to do, she'd quietly grabbed the bag of food (three dead chickens and a handful of green vegetables) and climbed a tree. Her time with Syrio had been well spent, as she did it as near to silence as possible. They appeared as she was still climbing, but she hadn't slowed, wanting to reach the top. By the time she stopped moving, the fight was over. Two dead knights, but the Hound was tied up and wouldn't be killing anyone else. He scanned the ground for her, looking for her, and she prayed to the seven that he wouldn't draw attention to her.

Then he'd seen her, high amongst the treetops. With her eyes she begged him to stay silent. And much to her astonishment, he did. He caught her eye, smirked slightly, then looked in completely the opposite direction. She couldn't believe he'd let her go like that, and she felt guilty for not waking him when she'd heard horses approaching. Nothing to do about it now, though.

Submerging herself once more, her foot hit something. She had a moment of shock, then she dived for it, wanting to know what it was. Swimming to the riverbank with it clutched in her hand, she looked, then recoiled. It was a skull. An old skull with hair still clinging to it. After a moments fright, she calmed down. It was nothing that could hurt her. Arya was about to put it back on the riverbed when a glint in the weak winter sunlight caught her eye. _Gold teeth. The skull had gold teeth. Four of them!_ She hesitated for a moment, but then thought that she needed them more than whoever this person had been. Sending up a quick prayer, she knocked them out, looking at the little lumps of gold in her hand, heart beating fast.

"I'm sorry," she said as she laid the skull gently to rest at the bottom of the river from where it came. The gold felt warm in her palm, and she felt rich beyond measure. She had possibilities now. But where would she go?

* * *

**Tyrion**

_My dear brother_

_It's done. Our father is dead. His head is rotting on a spike on the gates outside the red keep as I'm writing this letter. He poisoned my son, the King of Westeros. I knew he was ruthless, but even I didn't think he'd sink to these depths. Apparently Tommen is more controllable than Joffrey. Just thought you deserved to know that you're now Lord of Casterly Rock. Enjoy it._

_Queen Regent of the seven Kingdoms, Cersei Baratheon._

Tyrion let the scroll roll up again, considering everything he'd read. He sat down at his desk and poured a healthy dose of wine, thinking hard.

_It is done then. I'm finally an orphan, and lord of Casterly rock and the Westerlands. Sansa is due to give birth any day now, Danerys in on the verge of invading, having crossed the Rhoyne and barely two weeks from Pentos. And from there, it will be a simple matter of waiting for good weather to sail after she's bought her boats. The world is unravelling, and I can do nothing but watch and wait to see what's left._


	21. Chapter 21

**Sansa**

Sansa screamed, as she pushed with all her might for what she hoped would be the last time. Her first child had been born, but she didn't have the energy to even look before the pain began yet again. Everything was wound up in a coil of pain and agony. Suddenly, she felt the second baby leave her body, and the pain faded. She collapsed onto the bed, so exhausted she thought she'd never move again. Then she heard the thin wailing of a baby, her baby. "Are they…?" she asked, wiping her sweaty hair out of her face.

The maester wrapped her second baby in a blanket, but she couldn't see much else from where she was. Sansa watched as she was handed one of her precious newborns, wet and wailing at her. "Is he okay?" she asked the room at large, before returning her eyes to her wondrous baby. She saw a wet nurse holding the first and she felt a wave of jealousy before realising that she couldn't hold both at the same time.

"You have a boy and a girl," someone said. Sansa opened the blanket to look at her child, and saw that she held her daughter. She supposed it would be helpful to have two boys, but she couldn't be disappointed in her gorgeous daughter with a mess of blonde fuzz on her head, so pretty now that she'd stopped crying. "Tyrion will want to see them," she said.

"My lady, we should tidy you up a bit first…"

"Send for Tyrion now!" At the moment, she was mistress of Casterly Rock. They'd do as she asked, which was apparent as the maids started scrambling around her chamber.

Sansa loosened her robe, or what was left of it, still hanging onto her body, and fed her daughter. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and her little girl latched on to her breast as if starved. She was glad her daughter knew what to do, because she certainly wasn't sure. Sansa smiled at her daughter, feeling the world alight with new possibility. Her son had been put in a rocker and started wimpering, working up to a full blown cry.

Sansa suddenly realised that for the foreseeable future, she was going to have her hands very full indeed.

* * *

**Tyrion**

He raced as quickly as his stunted legs could carry him into the birthing chamber. It smelled like blood and death, he thought uncomfortably. No one had told him what had happened, just that it was over. He took a moment to brace himself, before pushing the door open. The first thing he saw was Sansa sitting up in bed, and he felt a knot in his stomach loosen. She was okay then. Their twins? "Are you…? And the children okay?" he dared to ask. Even if one of their children was a dwarf, he couldn't face losing him.

"We're all fine," she said, nodding to the rocker in the corner. Tyrion looked at the baby she held, watching him with wide blue eyes and an open mouth. "A boy and a girl. That's your son in the crib." He reached over to pick up the baby, who was heavier than he expected. No sign of dwarfism either, he thought, feeling a rush of relief. He personally wouldn't have cared, but he wouldn't wish that kind of ridicule and laughter he'd experienced all his life on any child.

He walked to the bed, seeing that Sansa was watching their daughter avidly. Tyrion hopped up onto the bed in an ungainly manner, and sat next to his wife who wasn't even looking at him. She only had eyes for their children, every now and then, her eyes going to her son. He looked at their girl and smiled. Only a few minutes old, maybe half an hour, but she was beautiful.

"Can I… hold her?" he asked, and he felt the rush of protectiveness he never thought he'd feel for this new life. Tyrion put their son down on the bed gently, as Sansa looked at him for a moment before kissing their daughters forehead and carefully handing her over. She picked up their boy, seeing the mirror of her daughters face there. Right down to the blonde messy hair.

"Hello there," he said gently to his daughter. Her blue eyes were so wide and confused, but looking at him intently. "Well, you're just beautiful aren't you? She's as beautiful as her mother." Sansa fell against the pillows with a wry smile on her face.

"I don't feel beautiful right now. More like I've been torn in two."

"Are you okay?" he asked, keeping hold of the baby, but looking at her in concern.

"I think I'll recover," she said quietly.

"What do you want to name them?" he asked.

"I thought that was your responsibility," she said. "Tradition…"

"I want you to name them," Tyrion said firmly. "I don't care about tradition."

Sansa smiled such a beautiful smile at him that his heart stopped for a moment. "I thought… Catelyn. But then I wondered if that was too morbid for her. She's so beautifully innocent, I'm not sure if naming her after her murdered grandmother would be right. But I like Maeri too."

"As much as you love your mother, she did try to have me murdered," he reminded her. Sansa smiled slightly, not finding the memory as painful as she expected. Tyrion ventured further, treading gently as this might not be a good subject of conversation. "I thought… the boy, we could name him Robb."

"Your family will hate that," she said.

"I don't care what they think." She smiled again, before leaning over him and kissing him gently. He responded, he couldn't help it, even with a baby in his arms. The newborn squealed in protest at being a little squashed as Sansa drew close.

"I think Robb might be suitable," she said. "Especially if he ends up ruling the north. Appropriate, all things considered."

"Your brother… it was indecent," he said. "My family had a part in it, and I'm sorry. At least had he died in battle, it would have been more dignified."

"Yes," she said. "Tyrion, I know it wasn't your fault. I also know you wouldn't have minded to see him dead, but you wouldn't have done it like that."

"No, I wouldn't," Tyrion agreed. "So, Robb and Maeri?"

"I like that," Sansa said. "It seems right." He smiled at her, glad they were thinking the same thing. "I need to sleep," she announced. "Can you put them in the crib?" He nodded, and did so. By the time he'd put them down, Sansa had fallen asleep very quickly. He couldn't blame her, she must be exhausted.

He looked at her, then watched his children. "You are just precious," he said. "I can't believe how lucky I am. I never thought I'd have this, as deformed as I am. I didn't think I'd ever have a proper wife, or a legitimate child. Let alone two. You're going to be very important. Do you know, you might just have a wonderful life, between here, Winterfell and Kings Landing. And as hard as it might be, I'll do all I can to protect you. My beautiful daughter and my handsome boy."

Soon, he had to leave. After all, there were important letters to write, to spread the news of his newborn children. But he'd watch his family for just a few more minutes.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews. More when it's written. So glad that there are people enjoying this story.**


	22. Chapter 22

**3 months later**

**Daenerys.**

The smell of the salt sea is enticing. Westeros is only a few days ship ride away. Maybe a week. Her fleet is standing by, waiting for a brief break in the weather to make the crossing. Her army is getting restless too, which is all to the good. For the time being anyway, a restless army is one that wants a fight. The only danger is that if they were there too long, they might start fighting amongst themselves.

Daenerys looked out of her high window, looking at the flat sea. It looked calm enough to cross, but she didn't know anything about ships. It had seemed this way before, but had still been too treacherous. Winter wasn't a great time to cross the narrow sea, but it would be a good time to invade. People couldn't run from her army. It would make travelling slow, but she would get there.  
T

here was a hurried knock on her door and she grabbed her robe, covering herself before calling "Enter."

It was Ser Barristan, flushed and excited. "Your Grace, we have a gap in the weather. With your permission, we'll begin loading the ships, and gathering your armies." She smiled at him widely. "Your Grace, you're going home."

* * *

**Sansa**

"Wake up," she whispered to her husband, pressing a kiss to the scar on his cheek, before sitting up and watching him.

"No," Tyrion said, laying perfectly still. "One privilege of being Lord of Casterly Rock and the Westerlands is that I can have a lie in on my soft feather bed."

"Or you can make love to your wife." His eyes popped open at that and she smiled, staying perfectly still as she let his eyes roam over her body. She wore a shift, but it was one she'd had specially made out of Myrish lace. Almost completely see through and she smiled as he looked at her.

"That's a fair point," he said, letting his fingers trail over the curve of her stomach gently. His hands rose, feeling the friction of the lace under his fingertips as he cradled her breasts, heavy and full. With being a mother, she'd lost the last hint of girlishness about her body. She was much softer, her bones not as close to the surface as they used to be.

She sighed in pleasure as he touched her breasts, lightly squeezing her nipples. "Gently," she whispered. He smiled at her, his fingers playing with the hem of her shift, pulling it up away from her thighs. "It's been a long time," she whispered. It had been. They hadn't had sex since about two months before the twins were born. It had been far too long.

"I think it's time I woke up," Tyrion agreed, and she smiled. Before he could even move, she'd pulled his night shift off and he was naked. Before their marriage, never had he ever thought that Sansa would be this eager to bed him. But he could definitely get used to this.

She straddled him, and moaned as she felt his hands against her bum. "Tyrion…" she whispered under her breath, dipping her head to kiss him, long and deep. She knew that this wouldn't last long between them. He pulled her shift off and there was a knock at the door. They both ignored it, knowing the door was locked and barred from the inside.

"Milord, it's urgent!" came a call.

"Come back in five minutes," Tyrion called backwards, breathing heavily.

"Ten," Sansa whispered with a smile as her hands wrapped around his erection. "I need ten minutes." He laughed, which turned into a moan as she sank herself onto him. She cried out, closing her eyes as he filled her. Her hair was long enough to touch his chest as she started to ride him, gently feathering against his skin.

"Sansa…" he moaned. She smiled at him as she moved.

"Say my name again," she sighed, moving her body against his as he stroked her thighs gently.

"Sansa." She loved how he said her name, full and rich in the heat of passion. She could feel herself getting close and she stroked his chest as she kept moving.

"Oh Tyrion…" she breathed, a moment before her entire body tensed with pleasure and she came, crying out loudly. He gripped her hips hard as he followed her climax with his own. She collapsed, breathing heavily before kissing him softly and lingeringly. He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the leisurely kisses now that their passion had been sated.

Unfortunately they were interrupted far too soon by an insistent knocking on the door. "Milady, please come! It's your twins!" The voice was Briony's and Sansa leapt up, only pausing briefly to cover herself with a robe and tying it. Tyrion was quickly behind her as she unbolted the door, and looked at her handmaiden.

"What about my children?!" she demanded ferociously.

Briony paled, looking frightened. "They… The…"

"Spit it out, girl," Tyrion said. "Your mistress won't hurt you." Sansa realised she'd been a bit angry towards the messenger.

"Milord, your… sisters here."

"Cersei?" Tyrion said in confusion.

"She demanded to be let in to the nursery. I couldn't stop her, she's the Queen!"

"Queen mother," Tyrion corrected, hurrying after Sansa who'd raced towards the nursery. "Margery's the Queen now." He couldn't keep up with her, damn his short stunted legs. But he knew there'd be no stopping her now. Cersei didn't hold the same fear for his wife as she used to. And she was nothing compared to their children.

* * *

Breathless, she tore the door open to find Cersei sitting between the two cribs, a slight smile on her lips as she held a knife far too close to her son. _Of course she'd go for the boy._ The silver blade wasn't actually touching her baby boy, but it was close. She could see Robb kicking in the cradle, mewling slightly and she knew that he'd start to cry soon, wanting to be fed.

"Stand up, and leave," Sansa said firmly. "If you harm one hair on either of my children's heads, I'll cut your throat." She meant every word, even though she was unarmed and Cersei was the one with a knife.

"Oh Sansa," she said, an annoying smirk on her face. "Now you know. A woman… a mother will do anything for her children."

"Tell me, what do you hope to achieve by holding a knife to your nephew?"

"You named him Robb."

"No, I didn't. Tyrion did," she said, correctly. It came to her in a moment of clarity. She was no longer remotely afraid of this woman. She had no power anymore. Not a Queen, not a wife, and not a Lannister. In name anyway. Sansa herself was more powerful than Cersei at present, being lady of Casterly Rock. It was only her previous role as Queen that had allowed her to bluff her way into the nursery anyway.

"Robb Lannister," Cersei said. "That sounds so wrong."

Sansa had to admit, it did take a bit of getting used to.

"Get out," Sansa insisted. Then wished she hadn't as Cersei lowered the knife closer to her son. "If you kill him, or Maeri, you won't get out of the rock alive."

"Oh please," Cersei said with a laugh. "I lived here for sixteen years, I know secret exits to the rock you never will."

"Tyrion's blocked them off. Except two, which I know in detail. Do you want to take the gamble on which exit is still open to you?" The smile slipped a little from Cersei's face and her grip on the knife relaxed a fraction. _Where was Tyrion?_ she thought desperately. She knew she'd get there first, but he was taking his time. What was taking him so long? These were his children too.

"What do you want, Cersei?"

"I want a word with my little brother," she said. "To discuss why the vast Lannister army is leaving Kings Landing and going home. Thirty thousand men abandoning the capital when Daenerys Targaryen is on our doorstep."

"Probably to avoid a massacre," Sansa said.

"You knew," Cersei said. "You show no surprise at the fact the Lannister armies are disappearing, or that the Targaryen girl is coming."

"With her dragons," Sansa supplied helpfully. "Yes, I am well informed. My husband talks to me. He trusts me."

"In this world you cannot trust anyone," Cersei said.

"I know," Sansa said bitterly. "You taught me that. Tyrion taught me otherwise." Robb cried loudly, making both women look at the child. Sansa started as she felt the hilt of a knife being pressed into her hands and saw her husband next to her, giving her a weapon.

"Stand up and move away from my children, or I'll shoot you." Tyrion held a crossbow, pointed at his sister. Cersei stood, still holding the knife, but no longer directed at their children. Sansa rushed in and picked up Robb, quickly feeding the baby before Maeri joined in and wanted attention.

"Don't move," Tyrion said, as Cersei looked as if she was about to turn towards their sleeping daughter.

"You won't shoot me," Cersei said. "You're a coward, always getting sellswords to do your killing for you." The former queen bent towards their daughter and Tyrion pulled the trigger. The crossbow bolt went through Cersei's right arm, and she froze. Tyrion didn't, reloading as quickly as he could. Cersei broke the shaft off and pulled the bolt from her forearm, grunting with pain. A spurt of blood stained the floor and she glared at him.

"I'm not that bad a shot," Tyrion said. "Drop the knife. Or I'll kill you."

Cersei had never trusted Tyrion, and she was prepared to believe that her brother might just kill her. She dropped the knife. "Bron!" His friend came in and quickly restrained Cersei, but the former Queen showed no resistance.

"Just tell me why!" Cersei demanded. "Why disband our armies?"

"My armies," Tyrion corrected her as Sansa put down Robb and picked up Maeri who'd begun grizzling to be fed too. "You havent been a Lannister for nearly twenty years. You married a Baratheon. You have no claim on my armies, the King does. And I've decided not to take part in this massacre."

"You're giving up," Cersei said in disbelief. "You're just going to let that Targaryen bitch take my sons throne! Without a fight?! You fucking coward."

"Cersei, we cannot win," Tyrion said. "Her dragons will turn Kings Landing into a smouldering rubble within minutes if she chooses. It's a battle which is a foregone conclusion. I'm not going to make thirty thousand men commit suicide."

"You're going to let a usurper take my sons throne?"

"That's what Daenerys has been feeling for nearly twenty years," Tyrion said. "She's got the right on her side. And I'm not fool enough to stand between her throne and her dragons. It's a dangerous place to be."

"Tommen will die," Cersei said, close to tears. "Marcella will be murdered. All three of my children will be gone."

"You've been playing the Game of Thrones for twenty five years. Longer. I'm sorry Cersei. But you've just lost."

* * *

**Thank you so much for the enthusiasm for this fic. I think this is coming to an end now. Possibly 4 or 5 more chapters to go. I'd originally planned this to be 10 chapters, but I think I underestimated!**


	23. Chapter 23

**So, no Tyrion and Sansa here (sorry!) but this is necessary for the plot.**

* * *

**Daenerys**

She rode alongside Ser Barristan, Daario and Grey Worm, looking at the gate of Kings Landing. "Where is everyone?" she asked.

"I don't know," Ser Barristan said. "They know you're coming. After all, Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal are hardly quiet." This was true as the three dragons had been squalling the short ride from a southern harbour, where the winter winds had blown them. "Maybe they've decided it's pointless to fight it."

"I can't believe that," Daenerys said. "To give up the throne without a fight?"

"Tommen's nine," Ser Barristan said.

"Maybe, but his advisors aren't," Daenerys said.

"What would you have us do?" Daario asked.

"Take the city," she said. "Don't hurt any child, but make sure the city is mine. I want Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Tommen Baratheon and Margery Tyrell taken alive if possible, dead if necessary."

"Yes, my Queen," the three of them said. They all gathered their troops and she smiled. She had waited so long for this, and now she was finally here.

* * *

Daenerys walked into the throne room, guarded by Ser Barristan and a heavy armed guard of other skilled warriors. No one had given them any trouble on the way up to the throne room. Daenerys had a feeling that the fight had gone out of the Lannisters. They knew when they were beaten.

Tommen Baratheon sat on the throne, pale and scared as he watched her approach. That child sat on **_her_ **throne.

"I have taken your city," she said. "I'm Daenerys Targaryen, and you're sat on my throne." The boy hopped off, and she realised how terrified he was.

"Are you… Am I going to die?" he asked, very childlike. She couldn't contemplate killing one so young, but letting him live was so unwise. She didn't know what to say and she looked at Ser Barristan who also looked uncomfortable. "Of course I'm going to die. You've taken the city. I… know how this works." Tommen reached for his head and took off the crown, putting it on the seat of the throne. "If possible… I'd prefer poison. I don't want it to be bloody."

"Get me essence of belladonna, now." Daenerys said in a low voice to one of her guards. He quickly left in search of the maesters supplies and she hoped he'd find it quickly.

"Is it true you have dragons?" Tommen asked.

"Yes," she said. "Three."

"I'd love to see one before I… die."

"Look out the window," Daenerys said kindly. The least she could do was to show this boy a bit of kindness before she was obliged to kill him. She had to do it though. If she didn't, he'd be a focus of rebellions and could cause her all kinds of trouble later on. Might even depose her. She couldn't allow that. After all, Robert Baratheon hadn't let anyone live. Except for herself, but she was the anomaly. A mistake he'd be regretting had he lived to see this day.

"They're big!" Tommen said in surprise. "Wow." Daenerys smiled, but she hated this.

"Where's your mother?" she asked.

"She went to visit my aunt and uncle at the Rock," Tommen said. "She never came back." _Running away_ she thought.

"And your uncle, Jaime?"

"I don't know," Tommen said. "In the city though."

"Margery?"

"Highgarden." Tommen smiled. He might be nine, but he understood more than she might have given him credit for. "She didn't want to stay. You're a rather… frightening opponent you know."

"Your grace." She turned, as did Tommen, used to being called that. It was the bottle of belladonna. She took it, but found she couldn't give it to the boy. She just couldn't.

"Take Tommen Baratheon to a small chamber under armed guard. He is not to be released, allowed visitors or mistreated. I want him watched at all times."

He was marched off, surrounded by guards, looking bewildered.

"You're going to regret that, your grace," Ser Barristan said lowly.

"I know," she agreed. Ser Barristan was right, letting him live was a move she would most likely regret. Before she could dwell on it too much, the door opened and three people came in. Two members of the second sons and a struggling child.

"Get your hands off me!" she screamed. Definitely a girl by her voice, even though she were dressed as a boy.

"I thought I said that no children were to be harmed," Daenerys said keeping her voice light.

"This one's a bitch."

"Bastard," the girl countered angrily.

"She killed two of my company and we brought her here so you could decide what to do with her."

"This girl killed two accomplished warriors?" Daenerys questioned in disbelief.

"They were trying to rob me!" she said in indignation. "And give me back my sword!"

"Were they robbing her?" Dany asked the two men holding her.

"It looks that way, your grace," one admitted. "She's wicked fierce with a blade though."

"What's your name child?" she asked. "Your real name," she added, as it seemed clear the girl was thinking up a fake one.

"Arya Stark," she said.

"Oh, are you?" she said. "Well, I know where your sister is. If you are who you say you are, we'll soon find out."

"Sansa is at Casterly Rock, isn't she?" Arya asked. "I heard she married the imp."

"She is and she did," Daenerys agreed. "She has twins now."

"I heard," Arya said, curling her lip in disgust. "Twin Lannisters."

Daenerys laughed lightly at her reaction. "So, you wouldn't mind coming to the rock? So your sister can confirm if you are who you say you are?"

"I haven't seen her in three years. I haven't seen any of my family in three years. I'd very much like to go. Your grace," she added. Daenerys had a feeling that this girl was exactly who she said she was, but she still had to check.

"We'll leave for the rock within the month. I'm going to keep you safe though. Show her to a private room. Treat her with respect."

"Yes, your grace."

"I want my sword back!" Arya said.

"Later," Daenerys said. "When I'm sure you won't kill any other of my guards." She looked unhappy, but didn't argue as she was led from the throne room. Daenerys sighed before turning to the ugly iron throne that this had all been for. It wasn't actually that attractive. But it represented so much more.

"The city is yours, your grace," Ser Barristan said. "Take a seat." She smiled and did, slowly ascending the steps to the throne. She picked up the crown gently rubbing her thumb over the gold gently. Her father had worn this crown. The usurper Robert Baratheon and both his sons had worn it. Now it was her turn. She put it on, then sat on the throne, smiling as she felt relief and happiness. She was home at last.

* * *

**More soon, hopefully before the weekend.**


	24. Chapter 24

**2 months later**

**Tyrion**

Maeri laughed at him, reaching for Tyrions face. Her tiny fingers touched his nose and she giggled again, warming his heart. He smiled, then rattled the carved wooden toy he'd been given to celebrate the birth of their twins. "Ga?" Maeri gurgled, reaching for the wooden wolf. He let her have it, where it promptly started being chewed.

Tyrion laughed, looking at Robb in his cradle for a moment. He was still sleeping, the matching carved lion toy firmly in his grasp. Tyrion found such unexpected joy in his children. He was expected to have heirs of course, but he hadn't expected such young babies to actually give him enjoyment. He loved spending time with them both.

Tyrion glanced up as the door opened. A servant came in with logs for the fire. Winter had them in its grip now and the snows were permanently covering the ground. He'd almost forgotten the colour of grass. The lush greenness and the freshness of it. Well, at least they were warm.

As the servant left, he sighed, then heard the sound of people arriving in the courtyard. He picked up Maeri and opened the window shutters, ignoring the blast of icy air and looked into the courtyard. Blanketed in white, there was a large escort and a woman riding a white horse. She was clearly in charge, and when she lowered her dark blue hood, he saw the flash of white blonde hair. Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the seven kingdoms had come to call. She'd been ruling for just under two months, and Tyrion knew she'd come sooner or later. The snows wouldn't have stopped her.

"I think we need to get your mother," Tyrion said to his daughter.

"Ba?" she gurgled, wide eyed. He put her down reluctantly in the crib and said to the septa, stitching in the corner, "look after them. I'm needed elsewhere."

"Of course, my lord Tyrion," she said, glancing at the quiet cradles before making another stitch. He hurried to their bedchamber, where he knew Sansa was getting dressed and having her hair braided. It took rather a long time for her hair to be done these days, having let it grow past her waist.

"Sansa," he said, opening the door.

She sat in front of the dressing table and let Briony finish her hair before turning around.

"What is it?"

"The Queen is in our courtyard," he said. We have to be down there, now."

"I've got to get changed," she said urgently. "I can't meet the Queen in grey. Briony, get my red velvet gown, now." Tyrion paused for a moment. "You need to go. You can't leave the queen waiting. I'll be down as soon as I'm dressed." He nodded and hurried down the stairs, cursing his stunted legs for probably the thousandth time in his life.

* * *

"Your Grace, I didn't know you were coming," Tyrion said, rushing into the courtyard where the assembled knights and guards were hobbling their horses. He hadn't even paused to put a cloak on, and it was freezing. "Forgive me for having nothing ready for your arrival."

"Not at all," Daenerys said. "All of our ravens are busy, spreading the joyous news of my ascendancy to the throne," she added pointedly. Tyrion smiled at her, appreciating her all the more. She was a truly beautiful woman too. He'd heard reports, but nothing quite matched meeting her in the flesh. "And I didn't know how long it would take us to make the journey, so I didn't want to waste the bird."

"Come in out of the cold," he said. "My wife is just getting ready, she'll be with us momentarily."

"Of course," Daenerys said. "I'm looking forward to meeting your wife." He did catch the interest in her voice and knew she spoke the truth.

"Welcome to Casterly Rock."

* * *

**Sansa**

She couldn't be late today, and hated every second it took for Briony to tie the laces of her gown, even though the maid was doing it efficiently.

"Done, milady," she said.

"Keep an eye on the twins," Sansa added before hurrying downstairs into the great hall. She was only a moment or two late, and was glad she hadn't missed anything important.

"Your grace, I'm so sorry I'm late. I didn't realise you were coming," she blurted out as she moved to stand next to her husband. The Queen smiled at them both as servers handed out goblets of mead to the tired riders and guards.

"I'm sorry for imposing on your home," Daenerys said, for forms sake only. "Before we go any further, I have someone who says she belongs to you."

"Oh?" Tyrion asked.

"I meant your wife," Daenerys said kindly, smiling at Sansa. The Queen nodded to a guard, who pulled a scruffy person out of the crowd of milling people. Sansa looked at the boy, not recognising him. Then, all of a sudden her memory and the present snapped into focus, and she knew exactly who she was.

"Arya?" she said. "Is that really you?" Her dirty face broke into a small smile. She'd never been clean, and always looked grubby, even at Winterfell. "It is you!"

"I keep telling everyone that," Arya said, rolling her eyes. Sansa felt the urge to laugh, but resisted, pulling her sister into her arms and hugging her.

"I thought you were dead."

"Been close once or twice," Arya said into her sisters shoulder. She did laugh at that, pulling back and looking into her sisters eyes.

"What happened to you?"

"It's a long story," she said.

"She is Arya Stark?" Daenerys interrupted.

"Yes," Sansa said with joy.

"Good," Daenerys said. "My men are tired. Can they retire to the guest chambers, before we talk some more?"

"Of course, your grace," Tyrion said politely. Daenerys inclined her head lightly, then everyone in the room jumped as a loud rumbling growl could be heard. _Oh no,_ Sansa thought. It's Arya. The wolf.

"Arya!" she called loudly, making her sister jump in confusion. The wolf padded towards her mistress, then sniffed around the room, not liking all these new people.

"Sit," Sansa said, curling her fingers in the fur of her wolf. The wolf did sit, but there was still a growl just audible. The wolf had the run of the Rock, and she didn't like the fact that more than thirty strangers had entered her castle.

"You called your wolf Arya?" her sister asked.

"Later," Sansa said, indicating that they were in the presence of a queen. **_The_ **Queen.

"We'll discuss… events later," Tyrion said, interrupting. "Make yourself at home, your grace."

"Thank you."

* * *

**More tomorrow. Thank you for your enthusiasm, follows, favourites and reviews!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Tyrion**

The next day, Sansa, Tyrion and Daenerys were alone in a private room, guards outside the door. Both Arya's (human and wolf) were playing with each other in the snow, having been rather taken with each other.

"Where is Cersei Lannister?" the Queen asked.

"In the dungeons," Tyrion replied. "She's being well treated, considering she held a knife to my sons throat."

"I forgot to offer my congratulations," Daenerys said. "Twins, I hear?"

"Yes, your grace," he said. "Robb and Maeri."

"I need to talk to Cersei," Daenerys said. "You know she must die?"

"Yes," Tyrion said shortly. "I know that. She is not a nice or kind woman, but she is still my sister. Speaking of which, my brother. Jaime?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"Dead," Daenerys said. "I'm sorry," she added.

"No, you're not," Tyrion said accurately. "You killed him."

"I didn't actually," she said. "He was found dead after the sack of Kings Landing. I don't know how he died."

"You would have, though," Tyrion continued. He loved his brother, and felt the tide of grief threaten to swallow him. He'd known rationally that Jaime was unlikely to survive Daenerys's take over. Since Daenerys had taken the throne, he'd heard no news of Jaime and had assumed he was dead. But to know it for a fact was a very different thing indeed. His brother was dead. Tyrion was the only Lannister left, once Cersei had been… dealt with. And she would be.

"He murdered my father, the rightful king," Daenerys reminded him. "He needed to die."

"He was still my brother," Tyrion said sadly. He didn't want to appear too argumentative in front of the Queen. She could very easily execute him if she wanted to.

"I know," Daenerys said. "We did bring his body back to Casterly Rock. So you could bury him properly."

"Thank you," Tyrion said, meaning it. He wasn't expecting that. He thought Jaime's head would be rotting above the gates of Kings Landing by now. It was a kindness that Jaime could be buried with his kin.

"Is Tommen Jaime and Cersei's child?" Daenerys asked, not being blunt at all. "And Marcella?"

Tyrion knew the truth, but he didn't know what to tell the Queen. He looked at his wife for a moment, putting off the inevitable. Sansa didn't provide him with any inspiration.

"Does it matter?" Tyrion replied. "Both Robert Baratheon and Jaime are dead. What does it matter who your predecessors father was?"

"It matters because I don't want to kill two children if I don't have to," Daenerys said.

"Tommen's still alive?" he asked in amazement.

"Yes," Daenerys said. "I want Cersei to sign an acknowledgement that all of her children are Jaime's."

"She'll never do that," he replied.

"In exchange for her childrens lives, I think she will," Daenerys said. "I want to know whether its true though."

"Yes," Tyrion said. "It is true. "Tommen especially is the mirror image of Jaime at that age."

"Good," Daenerys said. "I'd like to arrange a marriage between Tommen and Shireen Baratheon, Stannis's girl. Then, when they're of age, give them Dragonstone. After all, Stannis can't keep it. And a girl with greyscale will never become queen, neither will an acknowledged bastard borne of incest become King. It will let them both live."

"And what of Marcella?" Sansa asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Daenerys said. "Though the Dornish won't want her, when she's acknowledged as a bastard. I won't have her death on my conscience."

"Thank you," Tyrion said. "For my niece and nephew. None of this is their fault."

"I know that. They're children," Daenerys said. She took a sip of wine and then turned to Sansa. "I'd like to speak to you in private. Walk with me in the grounds?"

"Of course, your grace," Sansa replied, after just a little hesitation and surprise. "Now?"

"Sooner would be better I think," Daenerys said, smiling. They all stood up, and the Queen looked at Tyrion. "Alone, my lord."

"Of course," he said, feeling dread at what these two women might want to discuss without him there to listen.

* * *

**Sansa**

They'd been walking in the snow for five minutes, two guards their only company. The snow was compact which made it easy for walking. She had no idea what the Queen wanted to talk to her about, and was a little afraid. "Lady Sansa, I'm aware that you were forced into your marriage."

"Yes," Sansa agreed. "I was." On the day of her wedding she'd wanted to be anywhere else in the seven kingdoms than in that sept.

"I've had an arranged marriage," she continued. "To Khal Drogo. I was lucky. We grew to like each other, and more. But I realise that not all arranged marriages are like that. And you had no one to intercede for you, to make a better match for you." They walked along in silence for a little longer. "How does he treat you?" Daenerys asked kindly.

"Very well, your grace," she said.

"Come now," Daenerys said. "Don't lie to me. I won't take these tales back to your husband. You don't have to be afraid of him."

"I'm not frightened of him," Sansa said, completely honestly. She wasn't. She never had been. At the beginning, she had been frightened of intimacy and sex, but she never had any fear that Tyrion would beat her. He wasn't the kind of man who liked doing that to women."

"Sansa, if you want an escape from this marriage, I can help you. I can have the marriage annulled, and set you free. You would not be parted from your children either."

"You're telling me, I can leave Tyrion with no dishonour," Sansa said, slowly getting the point that Daenerys was making.

"There would be no disgrace," Daenerys added kindly. "You'd be a fine match for any lord in the country, with your family, your beauty and your clear fertility. You could take your pick of your next husband."

"I don't want anyone else," she said honestly.

"Sansa, Tyrion is…"

"I know exactly what he is," she said. "Tyrion is a dwarf. He is a Lannister. He is not the man I would have chosen for myself by a long stretch. He's intelligent, he's kind, he's brave, he adores our children and he loves me. And I love him. Please, Daenerys. My Queen, please don't take him away from me." She spoke urgently, because she couldn't imagine leaving her husband. Not now.

"Okay," Daenerys said. "But I can't offer this again. It will seem strange if you change your mind in a year or so, that I didn't do anything before. Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely sure," Sansa said with relief.

Daenerys could see it on her face, and she laughed. "You're lucky. I hope you know that. And you're going to have a lot of Lannister children to fill up this castle by the looks of things. How old are the twins?"

"Just over five months," Sansa said. The Queen held her gaze for a moment too long.

"And…?" Daenerys prompted.

"And it's far too early for me to confirm anything about the possibility of baby number three," Sansa said, with a small private smile. Daenerys understood completely. They carried on making their circuit of the grounds, before moving into the warm castle again.

* * *

**One chapter left, then the epilogue. Hope you're continuing to enjoy this story and thanks for your support for my first GOT fic.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Arya**

The wolf tested the frozen river with a tentative paw as Arya watched the beast. She missed Nymeria, but she enjoyed her own name sakes presence. The wolf pushed harder on the ice, and it began to crack. The dire wolf kept pushing against it, until the ice had broken about the size of Arya's palm. The wolf dipped her head and started to drink the cold water, as Arya smiled at her. She heard a noise and they both turned, Arya gripping her newly returned sword. She didn't loosen her grip as she recognise the stunted form of Tyrion. Her brother in law! Seven hells… The wolf recognised the intruder and kept drinking.

"Oh, you're a great help," Arya said, rolling her eyes. She'd been sitting on the snowy river bank, but seeing Tyrion, she stood. "What do you want?" she asked when he was in ear shot.

"To talk to you," Tyrion said.

"I don't like you," Arya said bluntly.

"No, I see that," Tyrion replied. "The wolf doesn't like me either."

"Smart animal," Arya replied.

He sighed, and sat down, leaving Arya standing. After a moment she felt too awkward and sat down too. "Why don't you like me? I don't believe I've done anything to offend you."

"You've done nothing?" she questioned in disbelief. "Your family ordered the Frey's to murder my family. My brother, my mother, my father. They're all dead because of you. _Murdered_. You forced yourself on my sister, into a marriage she didn't want. You probably raped her for all I know," she added bitterly.

"My family and yours have a bad history," Tyrion said. "I'm not going to argue that. I am going to defend myself and my honour. I have never mistreated Sansa. Ask her. I've treated her with nothing but kindness and affection. Neither of us wanted to be married. I was forced by familial obligation, she had no other choice." He coughed uncomfortably. "I do not have to defend myself to you, but I feel like your opinion matters. And if you end up hating me, I'd like it to be for something I've done. I did not rape Sansa. I have never raped any woman and I did not start with my wife." He paused before continuing, but then realised that Arya wasn't a child any longer. "Any time I've gone to her bed, it's because she invited me."

"I can't believe that," Arya said, looking at her hands. "You're…"

"A dwarf," Tyrion finished. "Yes, I know. Trust me, some days I can hardly believe how Sansa feels about me."

"Even if that's true, you still killed my parents," Arya said. She couldn't let go of her hatred that easily.

"My family did," he said. "I had no knowledge of it until after it had happened. But yes, my father did arrange to have your mother and brother killed. Is that my fault? I wanted Robb dead at the time. But I would not have done it at a wedding feast. There are some standards even I have. And I wouldn't have harmed your mother. That was callous and cruel."

"You wanted my brother dead," Arya said sadly.

"Of course I did. He was winning the war. Never lost a battle and I was on his opposing side. Now, I have a son named Robb. Funny how things can change in a few short years."

"He's called Robb?" Arya hadn't known that, and it surprised her. Calling his first born son, his heir, after the young wolf.

"Yes. Robb and Maeri." He smiled at the thought of his children and Arya felt surprised. The man in front of her wasn't the man she'd hated from afar. He actually seemed like he cared. "I'll tell you what I told Sansa when we married. It could always be worse. She could have married Joffrey instead." Arya smiled at that. That would have been worse.

"I don't want to like you," she admitted.

"Oh good," Tyrion said. "I'm making an impression then." Arya smiled at him. "I believe it may come down to me to arrange a marriage for you," he added, changing the subject. The smile slipped from her face.

"I don't want to marry anyone," she said. "No one at all."

"No?"

"No!"

"Okay then," Tyrion said. "I can put it off for a couple of years. You might have to one day you know."

"Maybe I'll disgrace myself and get with child from a random man I'll meet at the market?" she suggested. "Then no Lord will want me."

"I wouldn't," Tyrion advised. "Once you've done that, proven fertile, you'll attract a less decent sort of Lord. One who wouldn't treat you so well."

"You have a point," she said. "Don't make me marry someone."

"I can't promise never to do that," Tyrion said. "But not for a few years. After all, families need ties, don't they? You might actually want to marry someday."

She groaned and rolled her eyes, making Tyrion laugh. "It'll all be okay in the end," he assured her. "And we're no longer at war, so we have all the time in the world."

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**Just the epilogue left to go. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.**


	27. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

"What did the Queen want with you?" Tyrion asked. They were both in bed, and he was pretending to read a book by candlelight. Really, he was intensely curious what Daenerys had wanted to talk to his wife about. In private, with no prying ears.

"Oh, that's private," she said in an innocent voice. He snapped the book shut and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is it now?"

"If she'd wanted you to know, she'd have invited you with us," Sansa said. She smiled at him, blue eyes dancing. Her red hair seemed almost aflame in the candlelight and he couldn't remember when she'd last looked so beautiful.

"I bet I can make you tell me," he said.

"How do you suggest to persuade me?" she asked, teasing him. He moved suddenly, shifting the bedclothes and pulling her night shift off so she were lying naked in bed. He started kissing her breasts gently, his tongue flicking across her skin teasingly.

"Oh…" she moaned, closing her eyes in bliss. He lay on top of her, as his hands caressed her skin, and she could feel her arousal spiking. Her husband just felt so good against her body, especially as a hand found its way between her thighs. She mewled as his lips sucked a nipple delicately. "Tyrion…" she whispered. "Now. Please…"

"What did the Queen want?" he asked, low voiced. He didn't really care any more, but felt he should at least make an effort to find out.

"Sex first, talk later," she said, breathless and urgent. He chuckled, but didn't need asking twice. They made love quickly and eagerly until their bodies were sweat covered and pleasurably aching.

"Daenerys," Tyrion prompted, when he could breathe easily again.

"Oh, she wanted to know if I wanted our marriage dissolved."

"What!" Tyrion said in shocked disbelief.

"Mm," Sansa said casually. "As I'd been forced into our marriage, and with my position, if I wanted to, I could have my pick of any man in Westeros. Especially as its been proven that I can bear healthy children."

"Oh," Tyrion said, feeling his heart drop. Of course, if she had other options, it must be tempting to discard the imp she'd married under duress. Was this… tonight, was it goodbye?

"I told her I'm happy with you," she said, smiling. "I'm not leaving you, Tyrion," she added, seeing the look on his face. "Did you think I would?"

"It occurred to me," he admitted. "You're beautiful. I'm not."

"Tyrion, I love you," she said simply. "And even if I didn't, you don't mistreat me and you're a good, kind man. And I wouldn't want to break up our family either. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"Good," he said, smiling at her. "I like being stuck with you."

"And on the subject of family…" Sansa started.

"Mm?" His mind was too heavy to pick up her subtle hint.

"Tyrion, you're going to be a father of three in a few months," she said, bluntly and to the point.

"You're pregnant again?" he asked, a wide smile on his face.

"Yes, and if it's twins again, I'm going to castrate you."

He laughed. "No you won't."

"Okay, I won't. But I'll be more than a little annoyed."

"Not much we can do about that, either way," he said, humour in his voice.

"I am not having twins again!" she said in indignation.

"Okay," he said calmly. He kissed her softly, then rolled over and went to sleep, a wide grin on his face.

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_**Thank you all so much for reading, favouriting, following and reviewing. I've really enjoyed writing this and your encouragement has really helped me get this written down quickly.  
**_

_**I had originally planned to add a small family tree at the end of this story, with what happened next to the main characters. But then I realised I could write another fanfic about what happened next rather than cut it so short by adding a family tree. There will be a sequel to this if anyone's interested (but it won't be up for a few weeks / months yet). Thank you once again for reading.**_


	28. Preview of part 2

**This is the preview of the first chapter of the next fic, following on from this one called "Return to the North" for those who want to follow it. (Now posted.) I know I said there'd be a longer gap, but I couldn't resist writing this!**

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**Sansa**

"Robb, stop fighting with your sister!" she called. The twins were four and a half and had the run of Casterly Rock. Blonde beauties who were identical. The only difference between them was that Maeri's hair had grown much longer than her brothers. Robb looked at his mother then let go of Maeri, who slapped her brother for good measure.

"Maeri, don't hit your brother!" Sansa shouted, grabbing her daughters hand to separate the two of them. They fought like cats and dogs, but if anyone came between the pair of them, they'd stick together like glue. Even at only four years old. Sansa was already dreading how wilful they could be as teenagers.

Sansa suddenly heard a cry, and she whipped around, recognising the sound of her youngest child in pain. Before she could even move, she saw Tyrion picking up Daeniel who seemed to have tripped over, falling on the ground. At three, Daeniel was really too cumbersome for Tyrion to carry, especially when the boy was wriggling like a fiend, and screaming loudly. Sansa quickly exchanged children, and comforted Daeniel until he was just whimpering.

"I fell mama…"

"I know sweetheart," she said gently. "Where's it hurt?"

"Hands," Daeniel snivelled, holding out his palms. They were a little grazed, but nothing too bad. Sansa kissed his palms gently.

"All better." Daeniel looked sceptical at that and she had to smile at her boy. Daeniel had a mass of dark black curls and dark brown eyes, almost black. He didn't really resemble either of his parents, so much as he looked like he could have been Robb Stark's son. Daeniel had the look of Sansa's brother very much.

"We have to leave," Tyrion said. "If we're to make any decent progress today."

"I know," she said. Sansa looked around, seeing the large train to make their progress northwards. Everyone was either bustling around with last minute packing, or sitting on their horses, looking bored at the interruption the children had given them to their departure.

"Daeniel, Tya will look after you," Sansa said firmly. Daeniel's bottom lip quivered as if he were about to cry. "You've got to go in the carriage. We're leaving," she added with a smile.

"'kay," Daeniel said with a sniff. Tya took Daeniel off, Robb and Maeri running to catch up. Sansa didn't envy Tya and her maids. Looking after three children under five on a long journey north was not for the faint hearted.

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**For more, read "Return to the North." Thank you. **


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